


The Countess

by ficmuse



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:18:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 64,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficmuse/pseuds/ficmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his dreams are shattered, Guy makes a desperate bid to become the better man Marian would have loved. When he is given a second chance to win her heart, the secrets of his past may prove to be the undoing of his future.</p><p>Robin Hood- Guy/Marian- post season 2. Spoilers through 2x13.</p><p>This story is twenty-one chapters long and complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Better Man

If he had been a better man, he would have a hope of seeing her in heaven. Then again, if he had been a better man she would not have been dead at all.

“Are you listening to me, Gisborne?” the sheriff asked, his voice filled with rage. “I understand that this is just a minor matter, killing the King of England, but I would appreciate your full attention!”

“I am sorry, my lord,” Guy said automatically.

“You are so very sorry!” The sheriff wrapped his hand around Guy's neck and bent his head forward, so that Guy's eyes were staring straight into the Sheriff's. “This should have been done weeks ago. Richard should be dead, in the ground, rotting by now!”

“I did not mean to fail you,” Guy said quietly.

“But you have, most spectacularly!” His vehemence sent flicks of spittle flying onto Guy's cheek. “I am stuck here in this hellhole, due to your incompetence.” His voice dropped to a low hiss, deep and deadly. “We leave at dawn, and the deed will be done right, this time. “

“Of course, my lord,” Guy assented.

Vasey let go of him. “If you fail me again, I will have your head on a pike.” He turned on his heel, and left the room.

Guy walked down the hall to his quarters. He stripped off the layers of leather he wore, and his sweat soaked underclothes. Even nude, the heat was oppressive; it weighed him down like a cape of lead.

He lay in bed, staring into the darkness. Tomorrow, he must prove himself. He must focus on this task. He must not disappoint Vasey; he must prove himself worthy or he would be a dead man.

Think of the holdings that were promised, he instructed himself. Think of the coffers of gold that will be yours, the corner of Sussex that would be his domain, the fine home that he would build. To what end? his doubts whispered. Marian would not be there, to make it a home. What need had he of gold, with no family to spend it on? What did anything in the world matter anymore, without Marian?

He remembered the sound that she had made, when the blade went in. The weight of her body as she buckled. The look in her eyes, the disbelief. Marian had believed that she would distract him from his mission. She had not believed that he would kill her; after all that they had been through, she trusted, at the end, that he would be a better man.

As he had every night since he killed her, Guy dreamed of Marian. In some of the dreams she whispered words of love. In others he saw her in Hood's arms, laughing brightly. But mostly, he dreamed of her face as she fell back onto the sand.

xxxx

They left at dawn. The sun streaked across the desert as they crept along slowly, a line of brawny Englishmen disguised in Saracen garb. They circled around a crest of dunes, and in the distance they saw the cluster of white tents in the sand, the pennons of the Royal arms whipping occasionally with the wind. Farther off, they spied a string of men creeping towards the camp. The sun glinted off their curved blades.

“Hmm,” the sheriff mused. “Perhaps if we tarry, the Saladin's men will kill him for us.” He shrugged. “Well, there's no use lollygagging.” He grimaced. “I'm already sweaty. I hate this blasted land. Christ should have walked somewhere a good deal less warm, in my opinion.”

Guy raised his arm in command and the line of his guard lined up behind them. They galloped over the dunes towards the camp. The Saracens spotted them and increased their pace. “Be ready, Gizzy,” the sheriff instructed. “Do not disappoint me.”

Guy turned and looked at him. “I do not care if I disappoint you.”

The Sheriff reined in his horse, and the line of soldiers behind him stopped abruptly. The horses whinnied in protest. “What did you say to me?” the Sheriff asked, his eyes wide.

“There is nothing you can offer me that I want,” Guy said. “There is no incentive in the world for me anymore. The one thing I want, I can never have. “

The sheriff rolled his eyes. “Ah, I see. It is about the girl. Again.” He smiled at Guy. “I thought that now that the wench was dead, she would cease to stir up trouble.”

“She had one last request of me, and I would not grant it,” Guy said. “But I will grant it now.” In the blink of an eye, Guy drew his sword and lopped off the Sheriff's head in a smooth motion. The body stayed upright for a moment before sliding in a bloody heap off the horse.

He turned his horse to face the Sheriff's men, his men. “I will divide the Sheriff's coffers with all of you who fight with me to save King Richard. If you will not fight at my side, leave now.” Forty men looked at him with blank stares. “Raise your swords if you wish to be richly rewarded,” Guy barked. Tentatively the men raised their weapons. “Then let us kill the men that wish to kill the king.”

Guy spurred his horse into action. His men moved briskly to flank the Saracens that were moving towards the King's camp. They engaged quickly, the sound of steel against steel ringing. They were outnumbered, and some of them began to fall.

“Fight, damn you!” Guy screamed at the tops of his lungs. He cut a swathe through the enemy, his sword streaming with blood. Richard's troops climbed over the rise and joined the fray. “Take off the head wraps so they know you are their countrymen!”

Guy ripped the scarf from around his head and threw it aside. The momentary distraction compromised him; a horseman behind him slashed across the back. Two other horsemen saw the moment of weakness and pressed in, Guy was slashed across his chest, and a swing by another rider caught his mount across the throat. Blood sprayed as the horse died, its legs buckling underneath Guy. He fell to the ground and was nearly trampled under the hooves of his enemies.

He hacked across the leg of the nearest horseman and jerked him off his horse. Quickly he mounted the chestnut stallion and fought on. A swipe across the forehead sent blood running into his eyes. Impatiently he swiped it away with the back of his hand.

He kept hacking at his enemies, forcing away the Saladin's soldiers from the white tabards of Richard's Crusaders. He was stabbed in the side, the leg. His vision began to blur into a reddish haze, his sword hand less than sure.

A hand grabbed the reins and a serious face looked up at him. “I do believe you have killed them all.”

“I must protect the King,” Guy said thickly. “For Marian. It is what she died for.”

The man's eyebrows rose. His startled expression was the last thing that Guy saw before the world tilted and went utterly black.

xxxx

“Gisborne,” said a calm voice. Guy opened his eyes and looked into the face of the king of England.

“Sire.” Guy struggled against the pain. “There is much I must tell you.”

“The Sheriff's man, the Black Heart of Nottingham?” Richard's voice was amused, but his face was stony. “I think not. All I need to know of your plots, I have learned from Robin. He has already left to do my work in England, and destroy those who seek to destroy me.”

Guy swallowed hard. “My lord, there are even greater threats to your realm, those who feed intelligence to your enemies about the movements of your troops, your resources. Those men are the reason you suffer attacks as you have today.”

“You will tell me who they are.” It was not a request. “You are trusted by them. You know where to find them and you know their weaknesses.”

Guy nodded. “Both the spies here in the Holy Land, and their masters are in England as well."

“If you destroy these men who undermine my reign, what do you ask in return?”

“Nothing."

The king laughed. “Gisborne, your reputation precedes you. You care for nothing but position and power, land and gold.”

“Trifles,” Guy replied. “The one thing I want is the woman I love and Marian is dead.”

“If you did not want her dead, you should not have run her through with a sword.” There was a dry note in Richard's voice.

Guy closed his eyes. “I would give anything to undo it; anything to see her again.”

The king's voice was thoughtful. “Anything?”


	2. Adrift

Marian's dreams were twisted and thorny. Many times she dreamed of running through the forest, branches whipping across her face, her feet unsure as she stumbled on roots and loose stones.

She was not sure if she was running towards something that she dreaded, or seeking to escape a danger that was close behind. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could barely breathe. The cold metallic taste of fear flooded her mouth.

At other times, she drifted in a dense fog. She could hear voices, and catch glimpses of distant figures. But she called for Robin and he did not come. She called for her father to help her, to lead her back to the forest path. But she was alone, and she could not find her way.

She baked in the desert sun, her skin cracking from the heat. She could see her shadow stretching across the sand, rippling against the dunes. Sunset neared and her shadow grew as red as blood.

She dreamed of childbirth, of pain ripping through her belly. She wondered whether her child would look anything like her mother. She had been so beautiful, and died too young. Marian remembered her mother's screams pealing through the house as she labored, and heard the echoes of the same cries ripping from her own throat.

Sometimes, she dreamed of Guy. She stood in the dungeon at Nottingham, looking towards the bars. The cell door was open, and there was nothing to stop her from leaving. But whenever she started towards that door, to head out of the darkness and into the light, there was a voice asking her to stay. It was Guy's voice, soft and pleading.

xxxx

Marian's eyes opened. She rubbed her eyes and tried to sit up, and pain burned through her. She gasped, her hand cupping around her abdomen.

“Keep still, my lady,” said a kindly voice. Marian turned her head and saw a young girl seated in a chair, her head covered by the wimple and veil of a nun. “You should not try to move.”

Marian looked around the room. It was very plain, the walls made of smooth wood with no ornamentation. A line of chests was lashed to the far wall, and a rope hammock was strung above them. Marian felt the slight waving and rocking, and realized that she was on a ship.

“We are at sea?” Marian asked.

The little nun nodded. “We are sailing to Marseille, returning from the Holy Land. I am Sister Agnes, and I have helped care for you during your illness.”

“Where is Robin?” Marian asked. The girl stared at her blankly. “My husband?”

“The Earl of Huntington will be waiting for you in Marseille,” the nun explained. “I am sure you have many questions. But I must run and fetch the physician and I must tell my lord that you have awakened.” The girl turned and slipped out the door.

Marian looked around. The furniture was very fine, in contrast with the simplicity of the ship itself. Next to her on one side was a massive chest, its surface dotted with small metal knobs. On the other side was a chair as well as a side table, covered with rolls of clean cloth strips, a leather mug and a jar carved of a greenish stone.

Marian lifted the mug and saw that it was filled with water. She was taking a long sip when a small, brown man in white robes entered the room, followed by the nun. “It is a pleasure to see you awake,” he said in lilting, accented English. “My name is Mahmoud Zuhr, and I am a physician. You have been in my care.”

“I am very grateful for your care. I have to say, I am at a loss as to why I am not dead.”

The physician sat down next to her. “Well, I believe that you have been truly blessed by Allah. I have never seen a wound as grievous as yours that the injured man survived. And I speak of soldiers, not delicate young ladies such as you.”

“I pulled a foot of steel out of my own belly,” Marian said wryly. “I knew that I would not live through it.”

“The undertaker noticed that you had begun to bleed as he shifted you into the ground,” Mahmoud explained. “Very fortunately for you, he was my son in law, and I live close by.”

Marian blanched. “You mean I was to be buried?”

He leaned forward and patted her hand comfortingly. “You have truly cheated death more times that I can count on my hands. Your life has been restored through nothing short of a miracle.”

“I am sure that is not true. I have done nothing worthy of special notice by the Almighty.”

The physician shrugged. “Then perhaps he has a destiny for you that he has not yet revealed.” He smiled kindly. “How do you feel?”

“I feel thick headed,” Marian explained. “And very tired, although I know I was asleep.”

Mahmoud nodded. “I have been giving you a draught to make you sleep heavily. It was essential for you to be as still as possible, as there was very delicate surgery done inside your wound. If you had moved, the bleeding could have begun again, and that was the last thing we wanted. But the wound has been healing very well, and I have assumed that the healing of the wound on the outside was an indication of the healing inside as well. I have tapered off the strength of the sleeping draught so that you could rest and be free of pain, but regain a waking life.” He patted her kindly on the shoulder. “Now, let us take a look at the wound. Agnes, could you prepare her?”

Agnes nodded, and the physician turned his back and faced the wall. The little nun pulled back the blanket and gently grabbed the hem of Marian's thin linen shift. She carefully pulled it up and over Marian's head and placed it in a woven basket made of reeds.

Marian crossed her hands over her breasts and looked down at her belly. She was wrapped in a white bandage from below her ribs to her hips. Agnes picked up a silk scarf gaily embroidered with roses and efficiently tucked it from Marian's neck across her torso, covering her completely. Marian smiled; it reminded her of when her father had tucked her into bed as a child. Agnes pulled the blanket back up to cover the lower part of Marian's body.

“Thank you,” said Marian, a little embarrassed at being treated like a child.

“It is my pleasure. In serving others, we serve God.” Agnes turned to the physician. “She is ready.”

The physician came to the bedside and gently cut the bandages open with a small knife. He carefully pulled apart the layers of thin linen, and revealed the flesh beneath. For the first time Marian saw her wound: a jagged, angry red line that marched from below her ribcage to above her navel. A thin line of black twisted along the seam in her white skin, pulling the sides together. “My God,” Marian whispered.

“Oh, my lady,” said Agnes, and gently patted her arm.

“It is still healing,” Mahmoud explained. “In time, it will become a scar and fade.”

“Lovely,” Marian muttered. “A matching set, one of his scars on either side.”

He opened a stone jar and scooped out a thick green paste. “This salve helps to prevent festering.” He gently dabbed the salve down her wound. It hurt, and Marian cried out and struggled against it.

The nun held down her legs so she did not move. “You must try to be still. Too much movement rips the wound open anew, and it must be sewn closed again,” Agnes said.

It stung, and Marian was reminded of when as a girl she had tripped and fell headlong into a mass of stinging nettles. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain. “Agnes, can you prepare the infusion for milady?” The nun nodded and turned to the cabinet, opening drawers and pulling out a mix of herbs. She put the herbs in a clay cup and poured water over them.

Agnes helped lean Marian forward modestly, and the physician wrapped her in fresh bandages. Mahmoud turned away as Agnes helped Marian into her shift and adjusted the blanket. The nun gently wiped Marian’s cheek and handed her the cup.

Marian sniffed it. The scent was harsh and she wrinkled up her nose. “The infusion will help with the pain from the wounds within and without,” Agnes explained.

“It smells awful,” Marian said.

“It is bitter, but the effects are worth the unpleasantness,” Mahmoud explained.

Marian pinched her nose with her fingers and gulped it down. She gasped at the bitterness and covered her mouth, gagging. The little nun patted her shoulder until she had swallowed it all.

The physician picked up a small metal bowl filled with the soiled bandages. “I will check on you shortly, but I know the sheriff is waiting to speak with you.”

Marian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Sheriff?”

The physician nodded. “Yes, the sheriff of Nottingham. You have been in his care for the last few weeks, in Acre and on this ship.”

Marian grabbed the physician’s wrist. “Then I am in very great danger, and you must help me.” The bowl fell to the floor with a clatter. Startled, Mahmoud looked at her with alarm.

“My lady, there are none on this ship who would harm you in any way,” Agnes assured her. She gathered up the soiled bandages and handed the bowl to the physician.

“It was the sheriff's man who did this to me,” Marian explained, her voice rising. “His aide de camp stabbed me and left me to die!”

Mahmoud shook his head. “His lordship has been commanded by your king to protect you with his life. He told me so himself.”

“That is simply not possible! Vasey does not obey the king; he seeks to destroy him!” Marian's voice rang through the small cabin.

Mahmoud frowned. "You must not upset yourself. I will get the sheriff, and he will explain."

“Do not leave me alone with him,” Marian pleaded as Mahmoud left the room.

“I will stay with you, my lady.” Agnes sat in the chair and leaned over to pat Marian's arm. “But truly, you have nothing to fear.”

A moment later, Guy opened the door and stepped inside.


	3. Loyalties

Guy pored over the map, trying to determine the most logical approach. There were four targets to eliminate, scattered across England: Winchester, London, Newcastle, and Arundel. It would be easiest to slip in and pick them off one by one, unawares. But there would be less chance for reprisals if they were removed at the same time, in one central location. It would be ideal to lure them to Nottingham. The advantage would be his there: his men, his town. However, the combined force of his enemies’ personal guards could overwhelm his own forces, and the people of Nottingham would be in grave danger…again.

There was a soft knock at the door, and Sister Agnes stepped inside. “I am sorry to interrupt your thoughts, my lord, but the countess has awakened.”

Guy stood up abruptly. “When?”

“Just a moment ago,” she said.

“How is she?”

“In some pain, but alert and speaking,” the nun replied.

“Fetch Mahmoud to attend her,” Guy instructed. The nun nodded and left the room.

Guy's heart hammered in his chest. He would have to prepare himself to face Marian. There would be recriminations, harsh words. She might even try to slit his throat- which, of course, he richly deserved.

His hands shook. He poured a goblet of wine and drank it slowly, his thoughts a jumbled mess. She would live, thank God; she would never forgive him; she belonged to that bastard Hood now; he must hold his tongue and not fall into old patterns.

Guy rubbed his chin in thought, and felt the full growth of beard that had come in during the past weeks. He unfastened his jacket and set it aside, peeling off his thin linen shirt as well. He readied his ewer and sharpened his knife, and carefully scraped away the wiry black hairs from his face. By the time he was done, he felt marginally more in control of himself. He wet his hair and combed it back from his face; strands fell below his eyes and curled over his shoulders. It had been a long time since his appearance had occurred to him at all.

It does not matter what I look like, he reminded himself. Marian was someone else’s wife, now; no longer his Marian, but the Countess of Huntington. His stomach churned, and the metallic taste of fear filled his mouth. He had faced certain death with more aplomb than this. He decided to gird himself as he did before battle, prepare himself for an onslaught. With a swift tug, he pulled off his linen breeches and threw them aside. He laced himself into his leather pants, tugged a clean shirt over his chest and methodically pulled on his jacket and fastened it closed. His armor was nearly in place.

Guy reached into his traveling case, and retrieved a bronze hand mirror and a bundle wrapped in linen. He unfolded the cloth and pulled free the chain of office that belonged to him now. It had taken him hours to finally clean it of Vasey's blood. In his mind's eye, he saw Vasey's head roll, blood flying. He bowed his head and placed the heavy chain around his neck.

The finishing touch was his gloves and boots. He looked in the mirror and was not entirely pleased. The circles under his eyes were dark, and his skin was overly pale where his beard had been. He wiped away a smear of blood from a small cut on his neck and another on his cheek. The new red scar that curved above his right eye stood out prominently. With a sigh, Guy brushed his bangs over it and left the room.

The physician hurried towards him. “Sir Guy, you must come now.”

Fear nearly choked him. “Has she taken a turn for the worse?” Marian had been through so many moments where she teetered between life and death.

“No, no, the wound is healing well,” Mahmoud assured him. “But she is upset. I told her that you were here.”

“Yes, that would upset her,” Guy said dryly. “She does not think well of me.” As women must, he thought, when you try to murder them.

The physician looked miserable. “I did not mean to upset her.”

“Fear not; it was inevitable. I will soothe her,” Guy lied. He patted the man's shoulder. “Return to your cabin. I will send Agnes if the countess requires further care.” The physician nodded and walked down the hall.

Guy walked down the corridor and paused in front of Marian's door. He could hear her angry voice through the wood, and smiled. If she was well enough to yell, she was truly on the mend.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Marian stared at him, her eyes wide. “It cannot be,” she blurted out.

Sister Agnes turned to look at Marian. “This is the sheriff, my lady.”

“He is not the sheriff,” Marian replied.

Guy looped his thumb through the chain of office around his neck and held it up for her to see. “I am the sheriff of Nottingham, Marian. The office was given by King Richard himself.”

Marian's eyes locked on his. “Vasey is dead.”

“Quite,” Guy replied.

Marian's eyes searched his face. “You killed him.”

The nun gasped, her hand flying over her mouth.

Guy's eyes narrowed. “Leave us, Agnes. This conversation is not fit for your ears.”

The nun turned to Marian. “My lady?”

“You may leave,” she replied.

“I thought you were frightened of the sheriff,” Agnes said in a low voice.

Marian raised her chin. “I am not afraid of this one.” The little nun looked confused.

“All is well, my dear,” Guy assured her. Agnes smiled at him, her cheeks flushing red, and left the room.

“So in addition to skewering unarmed women, you have taken up flirting with nuns,” said Marian.

“I think it is safe to say that I have lost any hope of heaven, so I intend to make the best of my time on this earth. After all, it is a long voyage, and there are only two women aboard.” Guy smirked, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Which is the lesser sin, do you suppose? Blasphemy or adultery?”

“You disgust me,” Marian replied.

“Of that I have no doubt,” said Guy.

“Just when I thought I could not possibly form a lower opinion of you,” Marian said, “You sink to a new level.”

“Then it is fortunate that your opinion, good or otherwise, is meaningless to me now.”

Marian crossed her arms across her chest. “It must be rather freeing for you, to leave behind any pretense of being a decent man.”

“I am decent enough in the king's eyes,” said Guy. “He has commanded me to accompany you safely to Marseille, to await your husband's ...pleasure there.” The courtliness of the language was tainted by the tone of insinuation beneath the words.

Marian flushed. “My husband's deepest pleasure will be to shoot an arrow through your heart when he sets eyes on you. You should make your peace with God now; you will face His judgment soon enough.”

Guy reached into his jacket and pulled out a square of parchment sealed with wax. “I think not. By the King's command, I am to leave Marseille unmolested and return to England unchallenged.” He crossed to the bed and handed her the parchment. “I have received a royal pardon for my past crimes, including my assault on your person.”

Marian inspected it, peering at it closely. “This seal is legitimate; it is Richard's.” She cracked the wax and read, her eyes quickly scanning the parchment. She looked up. “You are telling the truth.”

Guy nodded. “I have sworn to serve him, and so has your husband. Richard has many enemies left to rout in England, and Huntington and I each have our role to play. There is no time for personal vendettas and bad blood.” Guy extended his hand, and Marian returned the parchment to him. Their fingers brushed, and Guy's heart beat faster.

Marian looked at Guy, her gaze assessing. “Richard has pardoned you, and favored you with a position of power. You must have something that the king wants, very badly.”

“I know where to find the vipers in his nest,” said Guy. “He has entrusted me with the task of seeking them out and eliminating them.”

Marian bit the edge of her thumb, her eyes distant. “These vipers, they do not know that you have changed allegiances. You will betray the betrayers.” She was silent for a moment. “You are to be his assassin. You will kill for Richard, rather than Vasey.” She smiled, and it did not reach her eyes. “Same dog, new master.”

“Say what you will, Marian. I have sworn my loyalty to the king,” Guy replied. “I will do what is necessary to protect his interests in England.”

Marian laughed bitterly. “Loyalty? You do not know the meaning of the word.”

Pain and fury rushed through Guy. “Do not dare lecture me about loyalty!” His voice was a roar in the small cabin, and he stepped forward. “You played me for a fool, time after time.”

“You allowed yourself to be played,” Marian said harshly. “You believed in your own delusions. I never claimed to love you, not once. Not under duress, not to free myself from your capture, or under pain of death. Never.”

“You gave me every reason to believe that in time you would be mine. Your words, your own actions led me to hope.” He met her eyes steadily. “Your heated kisses led me to believe that my feelings were not unrequited, that my marriage with you would be one of passion, and love.”

Marian flushed and looked away. “That was never going to happen.”

“But I didn't know that, Marian. I gave you everything of myself, all that it was in my power to give!” Guy struggled to control his voice. “And in return you gave me the scraps that remained after you gave your heart and soul to Hood.”

“And even those scraps were more than you deserved,” she said dryly. “You claimed to love me, but did not hesitate to gut me like a fish. In truth, I am glad.” She met his eyes, and they were as cold and hard as ice. “In case I ever fool myself again into thinking that you are a decent man, I will have the scar to remind me of what you really are.”

Guilt swept through him in a mighty torrent. Guy made a strangled noise and knelt by her bedside. “Marian, you must know I am sorry for what I did. The deed was done before I knew what I was doing. I was blinded by your words.” His sorrow overwhelmed him and he felt the tears escape the corner of his eyes. “Please believe me.”

Marian met his eyes. “I do believe you. I know you speak the truth, Guy.” She reached out one hand and cupped his jaw, her thumb gliding across his cheek. Gently, she wiped away his tears.

Guy closed his eyes, his heart filled with her presence, her willing touch. “Marian.”

Marian held his face in her hands, and drew it closer. Her lips covered his, and her hands slid back to cradle his head. She opened her mouth to him, and he sought it eagerly. The embrace grew heated, her tongue skimming across his teeth as her fingers tightened in his hair. Guy was lost in pleasure. His hands ran over her neck, shoulders, and slid down to her breasts. His thumbs brushed her nipples, and he felt them harden underneath the thin linen.

With a gasp, Marian tore her mouth away from his. “You desire me still.”

“Always,” Guy said breathily. He pulled her towards him and captured her mouth with his. Marian returned his passion, the kiss dark and wild. Her mouth moved from his and trailed gentle kisses down his neck. She bit him where his neck and shoulder met, gently first and then harder. He groaned with pleasure.

“You want me in your bed,” Marian said in a low voice, and her hand skimmed the front of his pants, brushing his erection through the leather.

“God, yes,” Guy said raggedly. She outlined the curve of his cock, the edge of his balls, and he cried out. “Oh, please.”

Abruptly, she punched him in the crotch. Pain blossomed through Guy and he fell backwards, sprawling on the floor. Marian cried out in pain, her hand pressed against her belly. Guy lay back on the floor, clutching his injured parts with one gloved hand.

Marian caught her breath and cast him a triumphant look. “I have been in love with Robin since I was twelve years old, Gisborne. There was never room in my heart for anyone else.” Her face was as cold and impassive as a statue. “I cannot wait to warm his bed, to feel his hands on my body, to bear him fine sons.”

It was more painful than her blow. With great effort, Guy pulled himself off the floor. “There is nothing to be gained by further conversation. For as you have made very clear, there is nothing between us, and never was.”

Guy left the room, slamming the door behind him. He leaned back against the wood of the corridor. Pain coursed through him like poison, and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed. A faint sound caught his ear. Guy turned his head towards the source, and pressed his ear against the door. Alone in her room, Marian cried.


	4. Saint Crispin

Marian watched the nun’s fingers move as they twisted the needle through the linen. In the space of a few hours, a plain cloth had become a thing of beauty, embroidered flowers of blue thread trailing across the fabric. The light changed and a shadow fell across the chair.

“It is dusk already,” said Agnes. She lit the fat tallow candles within the lanterns, and the room glowed with soft yellow light. “The sheriff is late."

“Late for what?” asked Marian.

“It is his turn to watch over you,” the nun explained. “Mahmoud and I divide the day, and the sheriff takes the night.”

“Is that necessary?” asked Marian.

“Now that the strength of the sleeping draught has been tapered off, you will need to drink the infusion against pain every few hours.” She gave Marian an assessing look. “I fear that you will have a long night.”

The door opened, and Guy walked in, holding a lit lantern. “I am sorry, Agnes. I lost track of time.”

“I was in no hurry, my lord.”

“Have you checked her bandages or given her the infusion for pain?" Guy asked.

The nun shook her head. "She said she is in no pain, and Mahmoud changed her bandages earlier."

Guy nodded. "Thank you, Agnes."

The nun gathered her embroidery and picked up her basket. “Rest easy, my lady.”

“Sleep well, Agnes,” said Marian as the door closed. She glanced over to Guy. “I do not wish for you to be here.”

Guy hung his lantern on a hook in the ceiling over the hammock. “How surprising.” He walked over to the bed and looked down at Marian. "You dealt me quite a blow earlier."

Marian met his eyes. "It was no more than you deserved."

"I believe that in hurting me, you hurt yourself. I heard you gasp." Guy lifted her chin and looked in her eyes. “You are trying your best to hide it, but you are in pain. I can see it in your face.”

Marian jerked her head out of his grasp. "I am fine and resting peacefully." She closed her eyes and tried to look sleepy.

Guy pulled down the blanket and Marian quickly cupped her hands over her belly. "Move your hands, Marian."

"No."

"There is a rope at each corner of the bed, Marian, to tie down your hands and feet so that you can not move and injure yourself. I have tied you down before; believe me when I tell you that I will not hesitate to do it again." His jaw was set, his eyes hard.

Marian stared up at him, and moved her hands. Dried blood stained the front of her shift. "It does not hurt that much."

Guy swore. "Why did you not tell Agnes that you were bleeding?"

"I did not want to explain what happened between us."

"Which part, your passionate kisses or kicking me in the stones?" Guy pulled the blanket to the foot of the bed and pushed the bottom of the shift up her legs. Marian kicked at him, and he grabbed her foot. “You will injure yourself further if you do that.”

“Stop pulling up my shift!"

“I am not planning on seducing you, Marian. I am checking your bandages,” he explained.

“I do not wish you to see my body."

“Marian, I have cared for you for weeks. There is absolutely no part of you I have not seen already.” He smiled. “Including that lovely birthmark on your thigh. I think it looks like a tulip. Very pretty.”

Marian blushed. “Do not speak to me in that way.”

Guy shrugged. “Stop me.” He pulled her shift up her body until it pooled below her breasts. The bandages wound around Marian's torso were soiled with blood. Guy flipped up the blanket, covering her nudity. “You have popped one of your stitches again, damn it.” He rummaged in the cabinet and pulled out a clay mug and a stoppered flagon. Guy poured a dose of thick red liquid into the cup and handed it to Marian. “Drink.”

“What is it?”

“Poppies crushed into wine, if I understand Mahmoud correctly. It will make you sleep, and take away the pain.”

“I've been asleep for weeks,” Marian protested, “I don't want to sleep any more.”

“Marian, the wound must be cleansed and sewn closed again. You do not want to be awake for that.”

“I can be brave,” Marian said. “I have had other wounds. Serious ones.”

“I will brook no argument. Just drink.”

Marian sniffed the cup. It smelled sweet, like mead. She lifted the cup and drank deeply. “It is pleasing, unlike that awful stuff Agnes gave me earlier.”

"Soon, you will sleep and I will fetch the physician." Guy sat down next to her on the bed. He pulled a leather thong from under his shirt, and untied it. A large golden ring slipped into his palm. “This ring saved your life, Marian. It will protect you when Mahmoud closes the wound again.”

“How can a ring protect me?”

Guy held her hand gently in his, and slid it carefully on to her finger. Marian remembered the feel of his hand on hers when they were betrothed, and again when he placed her wedding ring on her finger. She looked into his eyes, and knew that he was thinking of it as well.

A large golden ring rested on her hand. It rang the full length from the base of her middle finger to her knuckle. It looked like a small, raised box with beaded edges, and was inlaid with two crosses formed of rubies. Between the crosses was a clear piece of glass, and she thought she could see a glimmer of white beneath. “Guy, this is so lovely.” She peered closer. “I think there is something inside of it.”

“It’s a reliquary ring, Marian. It contains the finger bone of Saint Crispin.”

Marian looked down at the ring in horror. “Really? What are you doing with it?”

“Lie back and I will tell you the story,” he said softly, and stroked her hair. “It used to be my ring, but now I think it is yours.”

The ring was cold on her finger, and heavy. “So a ring with a nasty old bone saved my life?”

Guy nodded.“When you were brought to Mahmoud, he sent word to Richard that an Englishwoman had been found, barely alive, to see if he knew who your people were.” He swallowed hard. “It took weeks for the message to find the king, and that same day I killed Vasey, and saved Richard’s life.”

“You saved the king?” Marian asked.

“I did, with the help of forty men. I lost all of them. They died, and I lived, and I am not sure why.” He frowned. “I still dream about it, the blood and heat.”

Marian reached up and touched the red scar above his eye. “Is that when you were hurt?”

Her thumb traced the curve, and he closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“So you saved the king, and then what happened?”

Guy opened his eyes and smiled wryly. “He told me you lived, I struck a devil’s bargain with him, and his guards took me to Mahmoud’s house in Acre. When I saw you, I truly thought that I was too late. You were as pale as wax, your chest did not move, and when I touched your hand, you were cold. Mahmoud said that he had done all he could. He had performed many surgeries, you had lost much blood, and you could no longer be roused to drink water.”

“I was dying,” Marian said.

“Mahmoud thought you minutes from death. I got down on my knees, Marian, and I prayed to God. I thought I had ceased to believe in him years ago, when my father was executed and everything I ever loved was lost to me. But I found that there was still a spark there, when I looked at you fading, and I prayed. I remembered my mother teaching me my prayers, and in my mind’s eye I saw Saint Crispin’s ring on her hand.” Guy gently tapped the surface of the ring.

"My ring," said Marian.

Guy nodded. “My father had it commissioned for my mother. His saint's day was Saint Crispin's.” He took Marian's hand and gently stroked it with his thumb. “You see, my mother was afraid that she would die in childbed. Her mother had, and her mother before, back six generations. They married, the Savile women, and then they died.”

“Oh,” said Marian. “That’s a terrible streak of luck. I wouldn’t have wanted to marry at all.” She laced her fingers with his and settled into the pillow. Her head was so heavy.

“Neither did my mother. She had joined a convent, but all her sisters died. She was forced to marry my father to honor a treaty between her father and his. She was most displeased. My father said that the beginning days of their marriage were more like a war. She would not submit and he would not be gainsaid.”

“But you are here, so they came to some accord,” Marian said.

Guy laughed. “It took some time. Eventually, they grew to love one another. Even so, she was none too pleased to discover that she carried me. My father had the ring made so that Saint Crispin would watch over her and protect her as she birthed their child. And she lived, and so did I.”

Marian looked up at him. “You put the ring on my finger, and I didn’t die. That’s what happened, isn’t it?” She felt odd, as if her body was sinking into the bed.

Guy took her hand. “I put the ring on your finger, you opened your eyes, and you said my name.”

“I don’t remember. I wish I did.” Marian closed her eyes. “Guy, I feel like I'm slipping away.”

“The draught pulls you under quickly,” Guy said. “Don't be afraid.”

“Hold on to me, so I don’t slip away. I don’t want to die. I keep nearly dying and I’m tired of it.” She felt herself sinking, like a stone tossed into a deep pond.

“I won't let you die,” said Guy. He lay down next to her and kissed her forehead. “Just close your eyes and dream.”

“Do you think Saint Crispin will watch over me?”

“Saint Crispin will protect you and so shall I,” promised Guy. As Marian sank into sleep, she felt strong arms close around her.


	5. Sparks

A storm was brewing on the water. A crash of thunder split the silence of the night. Guy jerked out of sleep, his heart pounding. The room filled with a flash of brilliant light, and Guy saw Marian's face glow blue. The ship listed and bobbed, and Guy's hammock swayed with the motion.

Marian cried out, and Guy scrambled to his feet and rushed to her side. Lightning flared and Marian looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Something is wrong." She grabbed his wrist, and her touch burned.

“You are fevered,” Guy said. “It often happens after surgery. I will prepare the infusion that will break it.” She let go of his wrist, and he fumbled in the dark to light a lantern to see by. He opened the chest that held her medicines and measured out herbs, and mixed it with water from the flagon.

“I dreamed again of the desert,” Marian said. “He tied me up there and left me to die. I was so hot I felt I would catch spark like tinder and burst into flame.”

Guy stirred the mixture with his thumb. It smelled acrid, and his nose wrinkled. “You are safe, now. Rest easy.”

“I’m glad you killed him.”

Guy put his arm around her and helped her to sit up. “Steady. You must drink this, my dear,” he murmured, and held the cup to her mouth.

Marian sniffed the cup and turned her face away. “I cannot drink that.”

“It will cure your fever,” he assured her.

“It will make me sick.” She wrinkled her nose. “It smells like rotten eggs and sweat.”

“Marian, the only medicine I have to treat your fever is this infusion.” Guy ran his hand along her cheek, and turned her face towards his. “If the fever does not lower, it could kill you. Come now, drink for me.”

She turned her face away. “No.”

He lost his temper. “Marian, drink this infusion or I will pinch your nose and pour it down your throat.”

“I would not let you.” She glared at him, her jaw set.

“You're as weak as a kitten, my love. I think you underestimate who has the upper hand here.” Guy set down the cup on the bedside table.

“I hurt you earlier, and I'll do it again.” Marian kicked him in the thigh, inches from his balls.

Guy snarled. “Enough.” He reached down and smacked her ass with the flat of his hand. Marian froze, startled. He seized the opportunity to grab her ankles and very efficiently tie her down. “You are a stubborn, stubborn bitch of a woman.”

“I hate you,” she hissed.

“Yes, yes, I'm evil, you hate me. I've heard.” Guy tied her right wrist, and she bit his arm. “Turnabout is fair play, love. I don’t mind a bite.” He gently bit her back, and her eyes widened. “Your father was too soft with you. You think that you are your own master. But you will learn to submit, Marian.”

“Never to you.”

“Well, I wish Locksley luck. Perhaps I’ll hand him the ropes when we land at Marseille.”

“Robin would never tie me up like this,” Marian hissed.

“Well, that is true. I imagine that his tastes lie in a more conventional direction.” Guy smiled.

Marian struggled. “Untie me.”

“But I quite like looking at you like this. Breasts heaving, face flushed. It is a very stirring picture.” Guy wanted to cut the shift off her body and lick her everywhere.

Marian looked confused. “You have the most interesting look on your face.”

“I was having very… pleasant thoughts.” He licked his lips.

She turned her face away. “I am sure I do not wish to hear them.”

He walked to the bedside and turned her face towards his. “I would very much like to lick you, Marian, from the base of your lovely throat, across your breasts, and down your body. I would lie between your legs and lick you there, as well, until you screamed with pleasure.”

Marian blushed, her cheeks the bright red of an apple. “That is the most wicked thing I have ever heard.”

“Oh, there are many more wicked things, Marian. And I dearly want to do each and every one of them to you.” Guy leaned over her, his face close to hers. “And have you return the favor.”

She cast a glance downward at his crotch and swiftly up again. “You have a very sullied mind.”

“Oh, yes. When I look upon you, my thoughts turn very dark indeed.” Guy sat down next to her. “Would you like to hear more?” He trailed his fingers through her hair. “I have many thoughts of you, Marian, and I think you would like to hear some of them very much.” Marian shook her head in denial. “Or, you could stop being absurd and drink.”

Marian bit her lip. “I would like my infusion, please.”

“I thought so.” Guy picked up the cup from the bedside table and brought it to her mouth. She sputtered and choked, but most of the contents made it into her. Satisfied, Guy let her go and set down the cup.

“Flaaargh.” Marian grimaced. “Disgusting.” She stuck out her tongue. “Ugh.”

Guy picked up a bit of dried date from the bowl on the table. “Marian, take a bite of this.” He held it to her lips.

She turned her face away. “Bastard.”

“Marian, this has a sweet taste. It will cleanse the bitterness from your mouth.”

Marian looked at him dubiously. “Why would I eat a wrinkled bit of leather?”

“It is a fruit, dried in the sun to make it even sweeter,” he explained. “Give it a taste.”

She frowned. “You first.”

Guy bit into the date and swallowed it, and held it to her mouth. Marian took a tentative bite, then another. “It is like...crunchy honey.” Her eyebrows raised in surprise.

Guy smiled. “I knew you would like it. You favor sweets.”

“Can I have another?” She closed her mouth around his finger and licked it clean. “I like it very much.” Guy’s breath caught in his throat. She realized what she had done and blushed. “I am sorry.”

“I am not.” Guy leaned forward and kissed her. She hesitated when his tongue swept into her mouth. He closed his hands over her breasts and she opened her mouth to him, the kiss deepening.

Abruptly Marian pulled away from him. “No.” She turned away from him and hid her face under her hair. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t understand. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Guy said softly. He watched her, and he could tell the moment she arrived in the land of sleep. All of the tension in her body unfurled, her fists opening, her legs sprawling apart.

The storm subsided, and the sea calmed. Guy watched Marian for a long time before he untied the ropes. He hesitated for a moment, and then pulled off his clothes and slipped into bed beside her.

xxxx

When Guy awoke the next morning, Marian was propped on one elbow, staring at him. More specifically, her attention was fixed on the covers which were slung low around his hips. They were tented around the erection that he had awoken with.

Marian’s eyes were dark and something was in them he'd never seen. She moved her head to look up at his face, and he closed his eyes, feigning sleep. She drew down the sheet. Guy felt the smooth fabric glide over his skin and his penis bobbed up with the movement. The sheet fell away, revealing it to her view.

Marian gasped and Guy opened his eyes. Marian stared at his cock as if a dragon had popped out of the covers.

“Am I so ill favored?” Guy asked.

Marian's face flushed with color. “No, I've just never seen...” She stopped, biting her lip.

Guy's heart stopped. He couldn't breathe. The truth burst into his head in all its glory, a phoenix from the ashes: Hood had never bedded her; he was not his wife in truth until he bedded her. They had exchanged vows, perhaps, but never consummated the match. It could be annulled.

Marian raised her chin and met his look. “That is to say, I have never seen you naked before. Men are built quite differently from one another, I would imagine. As stallions are.” She cleared her throat. “And therefore, there are many interesting differences between naked men. Human men. Not just…horses.”

Guy bit back the smile that wanted to spring to his lips. He leaned forward. “Indeed, the same may be true of naked women.” With a quick tug, he pulled her chemise over her head. Marian squealed and crossed her hands over her breasts.

“Do not be shy with me.” He gently moved her hands away. “I am no stranger to these lovelies.” Marian's nipples hardened, and Guy bent his head to kiss each one in turn.

Marian pushed his head with her hand. “We should not.”

“You want me,” he said.

She shook her head. “No. I am fevered, and unsettled by your forward behavior. You had no right to lie naked in my bed.”

Guy took her wrist and placed her hand on his chest. “You want me.”

She devoured him with her eyes. "I do not love you." Marian ran her fingers along the curve of his shoulder. “I do love my husband. I do.”

"But you desire me. You want to touch me. Not him. Not like this.”

Marian sighed. “I...I do not know.”

She moved her hand away, and Guy placed it over his heart. “I will not take anything from you that you do not freely give.” He lifted her chin and kissed her, and she clenched his shoulders in her hands.

She moved her mouth away from his. “Guy, you are so finely made.” Her thumbs brushed against his nipples, and slid across the muscles of his chest. Her hand skimmed his erection, her fingers soft. “Why did we never spark, when we were betrothed?” She closed her hand around his shaft, and her thumb ran over the ridge in the tip.

Guy breathed hard through his teeth. He slid a hand between her legs and found the wetness between. She cried out as he slid his fingers inside her. “Tell me what it means to spark.” He bent and sucked her nipple between his teeth.

She gasped and cupped his head with her hand. “Sparking, that's what the village girls called it. Going off to a glen or the hayloft with your sweetheart, messing around a little. Testing the match a bit, before you settled it.”

“No, you wouldn’t let me touch you then, when you were mine.” Guy brushed his lips against hers, nipped her ear with his teeth. “And, oh, how I tried.”

“I feared your marriage bed,” Marian whispered, and moaned as he moved harder within her. “I did not know that you were so beautiful, or that you would bring me such pleasure.” She gasped. “I did not know there was such beauty underneath, until I saw you in your armor.”

“Had I known it would advance my cause, I would have stripped naked for you long ago.” Guy moved between her legs and brushed her clitoris with his thumb. She moaned and arched her hips. With a smooth motion he opened her thighs and sucked her bud into his mouth. He held her hips still as he pleasured her with lips and tongue. Her hands twined in his hair, seeking more, harder.

“Guy,” Marian whispered. She made a strangled cry in her throat and arched up to meet his mouth. “Something. Help me.” She cried out in release, her nails ripping across his back.

Guy watched Marian as she rode the wave of her crest, her head thrown back. He readied himself, moving to thrust inside her. Marian looked up at him, the drowsy look on her face replaced with a look of determination. “No.”

“Yes.” He brushed the tip of his cock against her entrance.

Marian unbalanced him and he rolled onto his back. “Lie down.” She pushed his shoulders and he rested against the pillow.

“But I want to be inside you.”

Marian straddled his knees. “I know you do.” Her hands closed around his shaft. “You are so warm and smooth,” she said, and stroked him.

“Sweet Christ, Marian.” Her touch was gentle, but the knowledge that it was her, her hands on him, made it intense. “Harder.”

Marian complied, sending waves of pleasure through him. “Lots of talk in the village, who had a manly part that was tragically small, or quite large, or curved. Who'd spend in a second, and which boy would put his hand up your skirt, spark you after he'd popped off in your hand.” She laughed. “Oh, the girls would have loved you. I cannot believe what you just did with your tongue.”

He sought out her center and stroked her with his hand. “Marian, come for me again. I want to watch you.”

“God, your hands,” Marian said, and closed her eyes. “You are very good with your hands. I had no idea.” He rubbed gently in a merciless rhythm. “Don't stop,” she cried out, and stiffened around him.

Excitement filled Guy that he roused her, that she desired him. “My lovely, my beauty.” His climax built, deep, swift and unbelievably strong.

“I am close, so close.” Marian’s hands tightened around his shaft and he climaxed. He closed his eyes as the waves of sensation hit him. He heard her cry out, and then she rolled off of him.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Marian resting back on the bed, her hand cupped over her bandages. “Are you pained?”

“Far from it.” Marian smiled and leaned forward to kiss him. She looked down at his crotch. “Bit of a mess there, aren’t you Guy?”

“Sparking is a messy business,” Guy explained. He wiped away his seed with her discarded shift and pulled her into his arms.

“Now I know why they call it sparking.” Marian put her head on Guy’s shoulder. “I saw sparks, when you touched me. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” said Guy.

Marian nuzzled her face against his neck. “I did not know it would be like this between us.”

“I knew,” Guy replied. “I always knew.”

“You should have done this before,” Marian said sleepily. “Just tossed me in a hayloft and ravished me.”

“Gently bred young ladies are not supposed to permit such things,” Guy reminded her.

“I’ve never cared much for the rules. I would have broken them to lie with you like this.” She yawned. “I would have helped you be a better man, and killed the Sheriff myself so you’d be free of him. I would have given you good counsel, when I let you out of our marriage bed. Which I think would have been difficult, because you have excellent hands.” Marian sighed. “We would have been good together.”

“We still can be.” Guy turned his face to hers, and saw that Marian had fallen asleep. She was incredibly beautiful, all tension gone, a sweet smile on her face. She was, again, his Marian. He’d taken vows to have her as his wife before God. She’d never seen another naked man, and never would. Passion had blazed between them and affection as well. The deed was done. He would never hand her over to Huntington, no matter the cost- everything else in the world be damned.


	6. Illumination

Agnes gently turned the page of the Psalter. The pages were finely wrought, and illustrated in vivid colors. An illumination caught Marian’s eye of an angel with a flaming sword. “Wash me thoroughly of my iniquity and purify me of sin; for I recognize my transgressions and am ever conscious of my sin…”

“Perhaps another psalm, Agnes.”

Agnes looked up. “Oh. Certainly, my lady.” She turned the pages. “Deliver me, oh God, for the waters have reached my neck; I am sinking into the slimy depths and have no foothold-"

Marian interrupted. “I very much enjoy hearing you read, Agnes, but I would prefer a psalm that does not mention drowning. Since we are at sea, it seems a touch inappropriate.” She looked over at the nun.

Agnes hung her head. “I am sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

Marian realized that her tone was sharper than she had intended. “I am the one who is sorry, Agnes. I am out of sorts today.” The nun nodded, staring down at her lap. “Would like to show me that embroidery stitch that you mentioned?”

The nun smiled. “The stem stitch?”

“Yes. I’d love to learn it from someone whose work is so fine.” Marian patted the bed. “Come and sit by me.” She scooted over and the little nun sat next to her, the bag of embroidery on her lap.

Agnes handed linen and needle to Marian and helped her through the stitch. Marian did a stem herself as Agnes watched her with an approving eye. “You have a talent for it, my lady.”

Marian smiled wryly. “No talent, just skill gained by hours of practice. My father used it as punishment when I was a child. I have a strong dislike of sitting still.”

“What wifely arts do you enjoy?”

Marian shrugged. “Well, none of them. I prefer more strenuous activity: archery; swordplay; riding. I am very good at throwing knives; I can hit the target true from a good twelve feet away.”

Agnes looked at her in disbelief. “That is...highly unusual, my lady.”

“My father preferred me doing what I liked to forcing me to do as he wished. He enjoyed my company more when I was in better humor.”

The nun laughed. “And what of your mother?”

“She died in childbed, when I was five.” Marian bit her lip. “I don't remember very much of her.”

“I am sorry, my lady.” Agnes patted her shoulder.

“My father said she was very kind, always thinking of others. She was gentle and even tempered; I never heard her raise her voice. She was very unlike me.” Marian looked down at her work. The simple cloth was covered with beautiful stems, wispy flowers at their tops. “This turned out lovely. I quite like this stitch, Agnes.”

Agnes looked over approvingly. “It is beautiful work. You could turn it into a pretty little cap for your babes.” Marian laughed. “What is funny, my lady?”

“I had not thought on that part of marriage,” said Marian. “The life my husband leads- I just can't imagine him at the hearth with a baby on his knee." She tucked the linen in around the edges, forming gentle gathers, and began to sew.

“Men change when they become husbands.” Agnes blushed. “At least, that is what my sisters tell me.”

“Robin and I discussed children years ago,” Marian explained. “Shortly after that conversation, he jilted me and left for the Holy Land.”

There was an awkward silence. “But you are reunited now,” said Agnes. “Surely he wants to settle in at home and begin a family.”

“I do not know what he wants.” Marian turned the fabric and began a new line of stitches. She let her mind wander, her fingers falling into a rhythm of their own. “His estate was only recently restored. He had been outlawed, his property forfeit.”

“That is terrible, my lady. I know such happenings are far too common with King Richard in the Holy Land.”

“Robin was on the king’s business in England, no doubt addressing similar misdeeds,” Marian said. “He will have many things to tell me when we are reunited in Marseille.”

“We picked up speed from last night's storm,” Agnes explained. “The captain thinks we will arrive by sunset tomorrow.”

“Good. I will be very happy to see this voyage come to an end.”

The door opened with a creak and Guy stepped into the cabin. “I’ve come to relieve you a bit early, Agnes.” He set down a basket of dates on the table.

The nun smiled at him. “That is very kind of you, my lord.” She gathered her things and left the room.

Guy gestured to the table. “I have brought you dates, Marian, since you like them so.”

Marian leaned back against the pillow and straightened her long skirts. “I am not hungry, Sir Guy.” She folded her hands in her lap.

“You look very beautiful today,” he commented. “It has been too long since I saw you in a pretty dress, your hair done up.”

Marian picked at the edge of her bodice. “I am tired of lying about in my shift like an invalid.”

“But you are an invalid yet, Marian. Mahmoud told me that you were in a great deal of pain today.”

“Apparently, I moved around too much after yesterday's surgery, and I am bruised and swollen.” She licked her lips. “I could not feel any pain until after the draught wore off. Mahmoud said that you gave me a very heavy dose.”

“I did not want you to be in pain during your surgery,” Guy said.

“Did you know that it would mask not only my pain, but also my judgment?”

Guy's eyes narrowed. “Are you accusing me of wrongdoing, Marian?” He strode over to the bed and glared down at her.

She met his gaze, her chin high. “I believe that you gave me more draught than necessary so that I would be more receptive to your advances.”

Guy's eyebrows rose. “Really?” He laughed. “You think I needed to drug you in order to seduce you?”

“Based on what happened between us, that is the only rational explanation.”

“No.” Guy sat down on the bed. Marian held herself stiffly, her hands clenched. “That is not the only explanation for what happened.”

“I was not myself.”

“Who were you, then?” They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, and Marian was the one to look away. “Marian, do not do this,” Guy said softly.

He reached out to touch her hair and she slapped his hand away. “I am not wanton,” she said, and her voice trembled.

“No,” he agreed.

She met his eyes. “You would turn me into your whore.”

His eyes widened. “Marian, I want to have you for my wife. I wish to honor and respect you and love you, not debase you.”

“But it is too late. I am already wed,” Marian said, and looked away.

“But you are not yet a wife,” Guy reminded her. “Deny your vows to Locksley and be my bride.”

Marian covered her face with her hands and her shoulders trembled. A choking sob escaped her lips. Guy scooped her up into his arms and settled back on the bed with her across his lap. She rested against his shoulder, her shoulders heaving. “You haven't taken my proposals well in the past,” he said. “But I do think a crying jag must be the worst reaction yet.”

Marian laughed through her tears. He reached out with one arm and grabbed a piece of linen from the table. “Here, dry your eyes.”

She took the cloth, raised it to her face, and stopped. “Oh, I can't wipe my face with this.”

He looked at it. “It is a baby's cap.”

“It is.”

Guy took it from her hand. “Made by Agnes?” He examined the work, his fingers running over it.

“No, it was made by me.” Marian closed her eyes and wiped away her tears.

“I see.” Guy set it down and took her hand. “I did not think such things interested you.”

“I always hated embroidery,” she said. “But I enjoyed making this.”

“Not the embroidery, Marian. Babies. Children.” His voice was husky, and she looked into his eyes. “I did not think children interested you.”

“I quite like children,” she said. “There are a slew of moppets from Clum to Nottingham who call me Aunty Marian, and know I will give them a silver for a kiss.”

"They are lucky to give you kisses,” Guy said, and smiled. “And get paid for the pleasure.”

Marian cupped his cheek. “You really are gorgeous when you smile, you know. If you'd lay off all the glowering, you'd have maidens lining up outside your door.”

“My heart is already taken,” Guy said. She looked into his eyes, and their mouths moved together to meet in a kiss. It was delicate and sweet and heated her from her mouth to her toes in a sweeping rush.

That moment she knew that her heart was taken too. She had fallen in love with this man, who could rouse her despite her better judgment, who could be so fearsome and so tender, and who loved her so deeply she was forced to feel it herself.

Guy broke the kiss, gasping. “Marian.” He looked down at her, his eyes shining. “Something has changed.”

His intensity frightened her. “No.”

Guy cradled her head in his hands. “I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it, taste it.” He pulled her into a deep kiss, and what had been so tender fired into flame, and she wanted him, desperately. Marian wanted to know him, all the corners of his body and soul. She wrapped her arms around his neck and embraced him. Her heart soared, a giddy feeling that she wanted to capture in a bottle and keep forever.

Guy kissed her cheek, her hair. “Please tell me,” he whispered. “Please say the words to me.”

“I am not free to say them.”

“Swear you'll end it,” Guy said, his voice ragged. “I cannot bear it, if you break my heart again.”

“I made vows to him.”

“You made vows to me. Hood had his chance, and he left you behind. I would never leave you. There is nothing in the world that I would choose before you. There is nothing greater than my love for you.” Guy kissed her again, his mouth warm against hers.

She pulled away. “It is not as simple as that.”

“It is as simple as this.” Guy looked deeply in her eyes. “When you think of a man by your side, a man in your bed, a man to give you children, who do you see in your mind?”

Panic rose up in her throat. “I do not know.”

“I do.” Guy pressed the cap into her hand. “Look again, Marian.”

Marian looked down. Embroidered in the middle of the baby's cap, big and bold, was the letter G. She traced the outline with her finger, her thoughts a rush. She set the cap aside and took his hand. “I will annul the marriage and I will wed you.”

Guy's mouth curled into a smile. “You promise me?”

“I swear before God, I will marry you at Nottingham Castle,” Marian smiled up at him. “We will wed before all the people of the shire. We will have a great feast and everyone will share in our joy.”

He bent his head to kiss her again, and she saw triumph in his eyes.


	7. Orders

“We have arrived just in time,” said Agnes. A glorious sunset was falling over Marseille, casting gold and purple light over the harbor. “Look how lovely it is.” She settled her cloak over her shoulders.

“I am not entirely pleased with the timing,” said Guy. “It is not safe in the lower town at night.” He strode down the gangplank, his boots making the flimsy structure vibrate. He clenched his arms tighter on his burden. “I am sorry to jostle you, Marian. This backwater clearly went with the lowest bidder to build its docks.”

She tightened her arms around his neck. “I am sure that I am ready to walk, not be carried like a child.”

“Until you are ready to have your stitches removed, you are permitted to do absolutely nothing,” said Guy.

“You must rest as much as possible until the wound is completely knit,” Mahmoud agreed. “You are nearly recovered and I would not wish you to suffer a setback.” He frowned. “Perhaps I should stay here in Marseille until I can remove the stitches myself.”

“Sister Lucia will be able to take care of the countess at the abbey,” said Agnes. “She will be in good hands with us, Mahmoud.”

“Then, it is time for us to part,” said the physician. “I am eager to return to Acre, to my wife and children.”

“I will pray to our Lord for your safe passage,” Agnes said.

Guy handed Mahmoud a weighty leather pouch. “You have been overly generous already, my lord,” the physician protested.

“It is nothing compared to what you have given me,” Guy replied.

Marian leaned over to kiss the cheek of the man who saved her life. “Safe journey. I will be forever grateful for your care.”

He smiled at her. “May Allah bless you and keep you all the days of your life, my lady.”

Guy turned to two sailors who held Mahmoud’s medicine chest between them. “Follow that man to the Valiant and put his belongings in place,” he instructed them. They watched the little man walk away, the soldiers shuffling from the weight of the burden they carried.

“How generous were you, Guy?” Marian asked.

“I gave him Vasey’s house and all its contents,” Guy explained. “I wish Mahmoud well of it, for I never wish to set eyes on the Holy Land again.”

“Nor I,” said Marian.

Guy kissed her forehead. “It is behind us now.” Something caught his eye. “Hey,” he said sharply. “That trunk goes with the rest of our luggage on the wagon.” The porter nodded and added his burden to the wagon that was rapidly filling with crates and trunks.

Marian nodded. “Let me try my legs, Guy. I want to walk.”

Guy hesitated, his eyes worried. “The carriage awaits us by the quayside. It is a few blocks walk through the town.”

“I will be careful.” He set her down very gently, and put his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

Marian smiled up at him. “Better.” They walked down the dock, past ships of all sizes. Bales of wool were stacked high, and men rolled casks of wine. They passed a row of unsavory looking inns with signboards displaying mugs of ale, anchors or women in various states of undress. Sailors mixed with travelers and merchants in a loud and chaotic blend.

“Les navettes,” cried a small boy carrying a basket. Guy called him over and gave him a silver piece. He handed a small cookie shaped like a boat to Marian and Agnes.

The nun bit into it with a sigh. “Now I know that I am truly home.” She smiled at Guy. “The abbess does not permit us such treats, but we all sneak away to buy them.”

“We will not tell her of your secret vice,” said Marian. She devoured the cookie and licked her fingers clean.

“Then I will be sure not to tell her of yours,” Agnes said with a grin.

Marian raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

The nun grinned. “What do you think I mean?” She shot her eyes over to Guy, who was having an animated discussion with the porters who were carrying their baggage.

Marian blushed. “You’re saucy for a nun!”

“So the abbess likes to remind me.”

A passerby bumped into Marian. Quick as a blink, Marian had grabbed his arm and held a small dagger at his throat. “You really don’t want to be that stupid.”

“You really don’t,” agreed a low angry voice. The greasy little man jerked, realizing that he also had a large sword pressed against his back. “Return the money pouch to my lady now, or I will run you through.”

“Sorry,” he squeaked, and handed Marian her purse.

“I would suggest you find another occupation,” Agnes suggested. “You’re not very good at this.” He shimmied away from both blades and ran, blending quickly with the crowd.

“Lovely town,” Marian said dryly.

Guy sheathed his sword. “We’ll be seeing the last of it soon, I hope.”

“It gets better as you move up the hill.” Agnes gestured at the landscape before them, a twisted hill of stone buildings that became grander until they reached the pinnacle, which was adorned with a massive fortress with towers that thrust into the sky. She pointed at it. “That is the abbey.”

They continued their walk. A blowsy woman leaned out of a window, her breasts overflowing the top of her bodice. “How about a nice suck, my lord? I’ll let you do things your fine lady there never dreamed of.”

“Ah, La Belle France,” said Guy. “Seat of all that is elegant and cultured.”

“I bet you would fancy a nice suck,” Marian whispered in his ear. “I know I fancied mine.”

He looked down at her with heated eyes. “I remember.”

“It seems only fair that I return the favor.” Marian licked her lips, her eyes merry.

“We really must continue this fascinating conversation when we are not accompanied by a nun.”

“And it is truly a shame that our destination is an abbey.”

Night was falling by the time they reached their carriage. A man in the King’s livery waited, holding a torch. “Sir Guy of Gisborne?” Guy nodded his assent. “I have urgent dispatches for you. Many of them.” He held out a stack of parchments tied with twine, and Guy tucked them into his coat.

“Welcome to Marseille. Don't eat the shellfish stew at Le Canard, and La Felicite has the cleanest rooms in the lower town.” The messenger doffed his hat and turned on his heel.

“Why would anyone order seafood at an inn named after a duck?” Marian mused as Guy helped her into the carriage.

“An eternal question,” Guy replied.

Agnes sat beside Marian and Guy thumped the roof with his fist. The carriage moved through the streets to the upper town. Guy pulled his letters out, opened the twine and leafed through them. “You have a lot of letters from Saxony. Why is that?” Marian asked.

“It is not yet your concern.”

“You can tell me.”

“Soon, I will seek your counsel in all things. Until then, the less you know the better.” He tucked the papers into his coat. “So, Agnes, are you eager to return to the abbey?”

“I fear that I would prefer to still be traveling,” said the nun. “My pilgrimage to Jerusalem was enlightening, but I am afraid that I did not find a closer bond to God there.” She looked down at her hands. “The abbess so hoped that the experience would strengthen my faith. She will be very put out with me.”

“Is she so unkind?” asked Marian.

“She is single minded,” said Agnes. “She has little patience for those who fail to meet the perfection of our Lord.”

“I think that is an impossible goal for anyone to reach,” said Marian.

“It is not a bad thing, to always strive to improve yourself.” The nun bit her thumb. “It just seems that I am always failing to meet the mark.”

“Perhaps the goal you are striving for is not one that is right for you.” Marian leaned forward, her gaze intent. “Perhaps you were not meant to take holy orders.”

“Marian!” Guy spoke to her sharply. “That is unkind.”

“I do not mean that she is unfit,” Marian explained. “I mean that she should follow happiness, and if that takes her away from a holy life to a different sort of one, that is for the good.”

“My father meant me to lead a life of service to God,” said Agnes.

Marian shrugged. “I think women know their own hearts better than men do.”

The carriage stopped. Guy opened the door and stepped out, and assisted Agnes and Marian in turn. They set foot in a large courtyard paved with cobblestones and lit by torches. The flames flickered against the imposing stone walls that stretched up high overhead.

“This is where we part,” said Agnes. “I must go to the nunnery, and the guest lodgings are through there.” She gestured to an entryway. “Marian, I will see you on the morrow at Mass.”

Marian pulled a face. “Must I?”

The nun laughed. “Yes, you must.”

Marian closed her hands over her belly. “But I am weak and not yet recovered.”

“You are a sham, Marian of Knighton,” teased the nun.

“Countess of Huntington,” Guy corrected.

Agnes cocked her head to one side. “I think, not for much longer.” She laughed gaily, the sound echoing off the walls. “After all, the cabin walls were thin onboard!” With a spring in her step, the little nun ran across the courtyard, her cloak flapping about her ankles.

“Now, tell me that is a woman destined to live a life of quiet contemplation,” said Marian.

“You toyed with the idea yourself once,” said Guy.

“And aren’t you pleased that I did not?”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and gave her a gentle kiss. “More than I can ever say.” He linked hands with her and they walked through the courtyard. As they reached the doorway Marian stopped suddenly. “Wait.”

Marian pulled him into a dark corner. One hand slipped inside his coat, the other pulling his mouth down to meet hers. He closed his arms around her and held her close. He broke away and took a gasping breath. “I want so much to bed you.” His mouth moved down to her neck, and he bit her gently.

She moaned and pulled him closer. “More, please.”

He complied and she made a guttural noise that elicited a primal reaction. He fumbled aside her skirts and thrust his fingers inside her. She pressed back against the wall and he sucked on her neck as his fingers pleasured her. “I used to think that you were driving me mad,” he whispered. “I’d catch a glimpse of you from afar and my heartbeat would quicken. You’d wear those tight corsets, low dresses, and I would want to rip them off you with my teeth. I wandered in a daze of love and lust, hoping for a look, a touch, a crumb.” His thumb pressed hard against her clit.

“Guy,” she moaned.

“Now I know it was nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing compared with how maddened I have become now that I know the feel of your skin, your sweet scent, and the cries you make when I please you.” He covered her mouth in a punishing kiss, dark with repressed hunger and need. His fingers moved faster and he covered her mouth with his hand. “All I want to do is take you. All I can think of is making you mine.”

Marian exploded, her eyes closing as her teeth sank into Guy’s hand. He held her as the waves abated and then pulled her skirts down and straightened her cloak. “I love you,” he said simply. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently. “Can you not say the words to me, just once?”

She shook her head. “Soon.”

He smoothed her hair and took her hand. “Then I must be content with that.”

They walked through the portal of the guesthouse. The small antechamber was lit by torchlight, and a red faced monk in a brown robe sat at a desk covered with large metal keys. “Welcome to the abbey,” he said, less than enthusiastically.

“This is the Countess of Huntington,” Guy explained. “She is to lodge here and await the arrival of the Earl.”

The monk’s eyebrows rose. “So this is the lady herself? The Earl’s runner has been waiting for her every day for a week. He went to eat at the chartucerie and will return shortly.”

“Then we will await his return,” said Guy.

The monk handed Marian a large metal key and gestured to a large wooden door. “Your rooms are through that door, down the hall, to the left.” Guy took Marian’s arm and led her to the door.

“I cannot permit you to enter the women's quarters,” the monk called. “Sexes are kept strictly separate in these lodgings.”

Guy sighed and looked down at Marian. “The king’s orders were for me to accompany you here and give you into Huntington’s hands. I cannot leave you.” He turned back to the clerk. “I would like a room in the men’s quarters. As large as you have and as much privacy as you offer.”

The monk halfheartedly shuffled through his keys. “Well, we’re a bit full up at the moment.”

“Then kick out someone less worthy. I am Sir Guy of Gisborne and the Sheriff of Nottingham!”

The monk gave him an insincere smile. “All men are worthy in the eyes of God.”

“Find me a room or you will regret it.” His hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

Marian closed her hand on his arm. “Guy.” He looked up at her, his nostrils flared with anger. “We are in a house of God. Show some respect.” She turned to the monk. “You look like a very sophisticated sort of man. A man of elegant palate who would appreciate a fine cask of brandy.”

His eyes lit up. “I love brandy.”

Marian smiled. “So I thought! So if I make a generous donation of a fine blend to the monks of this abbey, I am sure that you can find room for Sir Guy in your lovely accommodations.”

“Indeed.” He pulled out a large key. “The bishop’s suite is available.”

“How fortuitous,” said Marian.

Guy jerked the key from the man’s hand. “Enjoy your stay,” the monk said brightly.

Marian took Guy’s arm and they walked to the far corner. “We must part now. I will send for you when Robin returns and I have spoken with him.”

“No, Marian. I do not wish you to be alone with him,” Guy said. “And I must hand you over to him myself. The king’s orders were clear, and my pardon hangs in the balance.”

The monk at the table rubbed his stomach. “If anyone comes, tell them Brother Tuck will return in a moment.” He walked through the door of the men’s quarters.

“Even in front of witnesses, Hood will try to sway you,” said Guy. He held her hands between his. “Promise me you will not change your mind, no matter what he says.”

“I vowed that I would wed you,” said Marian. “Trust me to honor it.”

“But you have denied me before when I thought you were to be mine.” Guy’s hands tightened on hers, closing over the reliquary ring.

“It is your ring I wear on my hand. Trust in that.” Marian kissed the back of his hands. “Please trust in me.” She tipped her face up to his and his mouth moved down to cover hers. His hands drifted down to cup her bottom tightly, and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“What the fuck is this?” said an astonished voice. They broke their kiss and turned to see the wide blue stare of Allan A Dale.


	8. Divided Loyalties

There was an awkward second of silence, and then Allan spoke again. “He tried to kill you!”

Marian felt her face flush. “I have forgiven him.”

“So it’s all just, ‘sorry I stuck a sword in you, bygones,’ and you kiss and make up?”

Guy stepped between Allan and Marian. “I suggest you hold your tongue.”

Allan met Guy's eyes with a troubled stare.“Robin’s going to kill you as soon as he sets eyes on you, Guy. You'd best hightail it out of here if you want to live.”

“Robin will not harm him. Guy has received a pardon from the king,” Marian explained. “He has pledged loyalty to Richard and is the new Sheriff of Nottingham.”

Allan’s eyebrows rose. “What happened to the old one?”

“Dead,” Guy explained succinctly.

“Good. I really hated that old bastard.” Allan looked at Guy appraisingly. “So you’re the new boss.”

Guy nodded. “I control Nottingham now, and I have a position for you in mind. We spoke once of land, title. I am in a position now to reward you generously.”

Allan’s eyes lit with interest, but he shook his head. “I’m Robin’s man now, same as I should always have been.”

“We’re all on the same side now, Richard’s side. There need be no more divided loyalties,” said Marian.

Allan smirked. “Your loyalties look pretty divided from where I'm standing.” He looked at Marian. “Robin was crushed when you died, and over the moon when he found that you lived. This is how you repay him? Sporting with another man?”

Guy rested his hand on Allan’s throat. “We are not sporting.”

Allan slapped his hand away. “That’s what you call it when you put your hands on the ass of another man’s wife, Gisborne.” The two men glowered at each other.

Marian sighed. “This cannot continue. I must speak with Robin without delay. Where is he?”

“He was tied up with business down in the town,” Allan explained, “but he’s on his way up the hill right now. There’s a king’s clerk coming too, some guy from Rome and a bishop. It’s a real dog and pony show that we’ve got going on here.”

Guy looked at Marian. “Richard must have ordered them here to witness the exchange and affirm my pardon.”

Agnes burst into the antechamber and rushed to Marian. “My lady,” she announced breathlessly.

Allan looked down at her flushed face. “Well, hello, sister.”

Wide brown eyes met smiling blue ones, and Agnes blushed. “Welcome to our abbey. I am Sister Mary Agnes.”

“You are the prettiest little nun I have ever seen.” Allan lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Marian slapped his arm. “Ow!”

“You don’t kiss nuns!” she reproved him.

“You don’t kiss other men when you’re wed either.”

Agnes blushed. “I am very sorry to have disturbed your conversation.” She turned to Marian. “The abbess would like to speak with you in her chambers.”

“Me?” said Marian.

“She meets with all the noble ladies, to make their acquaintance and inform them of the abbey rules.” She looked at Marian’s crumpled dress and disarranged hair. “I will attend you in your rooms and help you freshen your attire before we meet the abbess.”

Marian turned away and Guy caught her wrist. “Do not see Huntington alone,” Guy reminded her. “Agnes, you are to stay with my lady at all times.”

“I promise,” she agreed.

Guy turned to Allan. “Now, would you like to join me for a pint and talk over a little business?” Allan nodded and they walked out into the courtyard.

Agnes led Marian down the hall to the women’s quarters. “Who was that man with the beautiful eyes?”

“Someone you'd best stay far away from, Agnes.”

At the end of the hall, Agnes gestured to the door, and Marian unlocked it with her key. They walked into a sitting room hung with blue tapestries. The bedchamber lay through the door beyond, and contained a large four poster bed with embroidered curtains and a matching coverlet, a wardrobe and a low chest. A window overlooked the courtyard, and Marian could see outside. A torchbearer walked by, followed by a trail of porters and then Robin, engaged in animated conversation with a laughing Much.

“Was that the Earl?” asked Agnes.

“Yes, that’s Robin,” Marian confirmed.

“Time for you to face the music then,” Agnes said. “But first you have to face the abbess.” She knelt down on the floor and opened Marian's clothes chest. She pulled out a red corset dress. “Perhaps not quite the right ensemble for this meeting.”

Marian laughed. “Perhaps not.”

The nun sorted through Marian's wardrobe. “All of these tight dresses will press upon your stitches.” She opened another trunk. “Perhaps one of these?”

Marian looked into the chest. “These are not mine.”

“Your name is on the chest, my lady.” Agnes showed her where it had been burnt into the wood. It said, simply, “MARIAN.”

Marian looked through them. Dark colors, rich fabrics, high necklines. A glimpse of silver caught her eye. She pulled out a dress of rich bottle green. Silver clasps down the front mirrored those on Gisborne's leather coat. “Guy had these made for me.”

“He seems like a generous sort of man.”

“He's always had a fondness for giving me gifts.” Her hand closed around a small leather box. She opened it to find a curved hairpin dagger. It was made of gold and adorned with two small ruby crosses and beaded edges, mimicking the Saint Crispin's ring she wore.

Agnes helped her into a clean shift and a deep blue silk dress that shimmered when she moved. Marian twisted her hair up and held it in place with the golden hairpin. She slid her feet into soft slippers of black leather and scented herself from a crystal flagon that smelled like clean rain.

“You look beautiful,” Agnes said. “Now let us fly. The abbess does not like being kept waiting.”

They hurried out of the women's quarters, across the courtyard and towards the nunnery. Agnes guided Marian through a narrow passage to a stout door with a peephole. It slid open, a wary eye appeared and the door swung open with a moaning hiss. An elderly nun let them pass. “You're late again, Sister Mary Agnes,” she said reprovingly.

“I know, I know,” she said, and took Marian's arm. The two women ran down the hall until Marian stopped, gasping. She pressed a hand to her belly. Agnes looked at her in horror. “Oh, I've hurried you and now you're hurt!”

Marian laughed. “Just a stitch in my side.”

Agnes sighed. “Oh good!” Her eyes widened in horror. “Not that it's good you're in pain.”

Marian waved away her concerns. “It's fine. Let's go.”

They turned a corner and nearly ran into a tall woman in a long black habit. A massive crucifix set with rubies hung around her neck and her head was covered with a black wimple and veil. “Sister Mary Agnes, you have kept me waiting for some time.”

“I was as quick as I could, Mother,” said Agnes.

“And, again, your best efforts were lacking,” she said.

“I am very sorry,” the little nun stammered.

“I had intended to honor your homecoming with an invitation to dine with the countess and myself, but I fear your disobedience has made that an impossibility.”

“That is disappointing,” Agnes said in a small voice.

“It is my fault,” Marian explained. “I wasted time fixing my hair and changing my clothes. Do not punish Agnes.”

The abbess shot Marian a dark look. “Are you a bishop?”

Marian blinked. “No, Mother.”

“A cardinal? The Pope?” The pitch became higher and the voice louder.

Marian winced. “No.”

“Then do not presume to tell me what do with a novice in my own order!” she snapped.

“Pray excuse me,” said Marian. “I meant no disrespect.”

“I shall go to the chapel and pray for obedience,” said Agnes.

The abbess nodded. “I will send for you when the countess is ready to return to her rooms. The sheriff has requested that you be with her at all times to ensure her reputation is protected until she is reunited with her lord husband on the morrow.”

“Yes, Mother.” Agnes hurried down the hall.

“Do not run, Sister Mary Agnes!” The abbess' voice boomed down the stone hallway. Agnes tripped and nearly fell, regained her footing and very slowly walked down the corridor.

The abbess sighed. “That child is a problem.”

“She has a generous spirit and a kind heart,” said Marian.

“They do not serve her well in her duties,” said the abbess. “Come.” The abbess took Marian's arm and led her into her quarters. The room was filled with heavy furniture and the walls were bare stone, without any decoration save for a elaborately carved cross on one wall. A table was laid with a fine cloth in front of a glowing fireplace. “Sit, my dear.”

Marian complied. Platters of food were in abundance as well as a bowl of fresh fruit and a flagon of wine. “This is a lovely meal. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“I assumed you would welcome a generous repast after your voyage. How was your journey from the Holy Land?”

“I was ill for much of it,” Marian explained. “I suffered a serious injury while I was there.”

The abbess frowned. “Yes, we were informed. Sister Lucia is a gifted healer and is at your disposal while you lodge with us.” She placed a piece of capon and a sliver of meat pie on a plate and handed it to Marian. “Were you treated by a physician while you were at sea?”

“An excellent doctor named Mahmoud Zuhr,” said Marian. “He is a Saracen from Acre.”

The abbess raised her eyebrows. “They are noted for some very skilled surgical techniques, far beyond what Europe has to offer.”

“I was very fortunate to be under his care. Otherwise I would surely have died.”

“Then you should make sure to take time to pray in the chapel to our lord Christ in thanksgiving for your recovery.”

Marian accepted a goblet from the abbess and sipped it. It was a rich red wine, heady on her tongue. “I will find the time to do so.”

“Did you visit Jerusalem on your journey?”

“No, Mother. Only Acre.”

“That is a great pity. Every devout Christian should walk the paths of our lord Christ.” The abbess sipped her wine. “Perhaps you will have the opportunity to travel there again. Now that King Richard and Saladin have made peace, the Holy Land will be free of bloodshed.”

“The war is over?” asked Marian.

The abbess nodded. “Even now the king returns to England.”

Marian smiled widely. “That is the most wonderful news that I have ever heard.”

“Then I am glad that I could share it with you.” The abbess gestured with her hands. “Let us say grace to our Lord."

Marian folded her hands in prayer. The abbess rattled off a long prayer in Latin and Marian began to daydream, wondering what Guy and Allan were talking about, and when she would finally meet Robin. She realized that the abbess had quit speaking. “Amen,” she said quickly, and opened her eyes. The abbess stared at her, her brow furrowed.

“What do you wear upon your hand?” she asked, her tone harsh.

“This is my reliquary ring.” Marian held out her hand for a better view.

The abbess leaned forward in her chair. “I understand that the sheriff of Nottingham accompanied you on your voyage.”

Marian nodded. “Yes, he did.”

“Were you previously acquainted or did you meet in the Holy Land?”

“I have known him for some years now, since he came to Nottingham under the previous Sheriff.”

“Vasey,” said the abbess, with an odd note in her voice.

“Yes, Vasey.” Marian took a bite of meat pie and watched the abbess drink deeply from her cup of wine.

“Vasey was the most godless man I have ever met,” said the abbess. She looked into Marian's eyes. “They say that his protégé is from the same mold, a man of violence and lust, capable of only evil acts.”

Marian set down her spoon. “Guy has not been blessed with the benefit of good counsel in his life. He was blindly loyal to Vasey, and lacked a moral compass. I have reason to believe that he is a changed man.”

“What is bred in the bone cannot be changed,” said the abbess. “The son of a traitor, the product of ungodly lusts is forever tainted.”

Fury surged through Marian in a mighty wave. “You have no right to condemn him, for you do not know him.”

The abbess laughed. “No, I do not know him. But it would appear that he knows you quite intimately, or has hopes of doing so.”

“You have no right to speak to me in such a manner.” Marian rose to her feet. “I don't give a damn if you are an abbess.”

The abbess laughed, a rich sound that filled the room. “Oh, he is so much like his father. Crispin dared to steal a bride from Christ; why should his son hesitate to take a wife from the mere Earl of Huntington?”

Marian looked at the abbess' eyes, her strong nose, her proud chin. “You are Guy's mother,” Marian said, and her voice was weak.

“Yes.” The abbess leaned forward and took Marian's hand. “And you, my dear, are wearing my ring.”


	9. Love

The tavern was dimly lit, and not the sort of place that promised good food or drink, a willing woman or a comfortable bed. The draw here was privacy, and from the looks of the place, there was a good bit of clandestine conversation to be had tonight.

“My business for the king will take me all over England,” Guy explained. “I know that Marian will handle my affairs in Nottingham with a more even hand then I ever could. But I need a man there to assert authority with my guards, and make sure that no harm comes to Marian.”

Allan took a deep sip from his tankard. “But why would you choose me? I have betrayed you once already.”

“You took a stand,” said Guy. “You had a decision to make and you followed your conscience.” He took a sip of his own ale. “I fear that I do not have one, Allan. That is why I need Marian.”

“But surely you can see that it is wrong to take Robin's wife away from him?” Allan argued. “As much as you love her, he feels the same way.”

Guy shook his head.“He loves glory, Richard, Locksley, the poor and Marian. His priorities fall in that order. There are other women for him; I know he was no saint on Crusade. But I have never loved anyone as I do Marian.”

Allan looked at him curiously. “Tell me how you did it.”

“How I did what?”

“How you got over on her,” said Allan. “I mean, I know there was a spark there; she flirted with you enough to get her way in the castle. But it was only ever on one side, mate; your side.”

“There's been something there for a long time,” Guy protested. “It wasn't just my imagination, Allan.”

Allan shook his head. “You never saw her with Robin. The way her face lit up, how she looked at him like he was the sun rising up in the morning. I never saw her look that way at you until tonight, and that's God's own truth.”

“Things changed, after Acre,” said Guy. “Her feelings have changed.”

Allan rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah. Blind man could see that. But seriously, what did you do to her?”

Guy sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Allan, you are insulting both myself and Lady Marian.”

“I'm not trying to! I'm just curious. I've heard about all those spells and things Saracens have. Saracen magic, their heathen witchcraft.” He leaned forward. “Is it a love charm, some bauble she wears? Or a philter you have her drink?”

“Allan.” The voice was low, the eyes hard.

“Fine, keep it to yourself. But I tell you, if you want me to take the job, sweeten the deal a bit, a little love philter would be most welcome.” Allan rubbed his chin in thought. “That little nun up at the abbey is the loveliest piece I have seen since we left England.” He shuddered. “Did you see the mouth on her? Ripe for the taking.”

Guy winced. “Allan, please stop being yourself for a moment and listen to me.”

Allan shrugged. “It’s always business with you. Unless you're chasing after Marian; you'll take a bit of time out of your plotting and scheming for that.”

Guy stood up abruptly. “You are wasting my time.”

“Alright, alright, sit down, Guy.”

Guy threw some silver on the table. “This conversation is over. Once I officially hand over Marian to Locksley tomorrow and my pardon is confirmed, we will leave Marseille. If you wish to return to Nottingham with Marian and I, have your things ready and meet us at the Majestic at the docks.”

Guy walked out of the tavern and down the street. He held tight to his sword, his eyes scanning the crowd around him for a threat. This town was a cesspool; the sooner they left the better.

“Fancy a suck, my lord?” said a quiet voice. Slender fingers caught his, and he looked down at a cloaked figure. She lifted her chin and he saw Marian's wide smile.

“It is not safe for you to be here,” he said.

“But now I have you to look after me.” Marian closed her hand around his wrist and pulled him into an inn. It was not the kind of place anyone would want to stay the night; and the state of undress of the clientele indicated that no one actually slept at this inn.

The proprietor walked over. “What can I help you with, my lord?” Marian held up a gold piece and pressed it into his hand. “You want a whore, or just the room?”

There was an awkward pause, and Marian stepped on Guy's foot. “Damn!” he exclaimed. The innkeeper looked at him curiously. “Just the room.”

The innkeeper pointed upstairs. “Third room on the right. You can have it for an hour only, since you brought your own whore along.”

Guy opened his mouth to reply, and Marian grabbed his arm and led him up the stairs. They walked down the hallway, hearing the grunts and moans of the other occupants. Guy opened the door and ushered Marian in. “What are you about, Marian? I can not think of a more unseemly place for us to be seen together!”

“No one knows we are here, and who would believe it if they knew?” said Marian. The sole decoration was a large bed, covered with a blanket that looked as if it had seen much use. Marian gingerly pinched the edge of it between her fingers and tossed it into the corner. She unclasped her cloak and threw it over the bed, covering it.

“Marian, we cannot stay in this place.” She threw the bolt on the door and with a swift motion, caught Guy behind the ankles and knocked him backwards onto the bed.

“We won’t stay long. Just long enough for a bit of fun.” Guy looked up at her, startled, as she pulled apart the lacing on the front of her gown and tossed it aside. With a wriggle and a squirm, she shed her shift and sat down naked upon the bed.

“I am seducing you,” she informed him. Guy took in the sight of her bared breasts, nipples hard and eager, before she bent over to pull off his boots, presenting him with a view of the lovely curves of her ass. He pulled on the fastenings of his jacket, shedding it, and hastily pulled his shirt over his head.

One boot hit the floor, then the other, and his lovely girl was hovering over him, her hair gliding across his face. “Kiss me,” she said with a smile, and he eagerly complied.

Marian pushed back his shoulders and he lay back on the bed, looking up at her with surprise. His fingers trailed over her bandages. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. You’re going to keep still, and I’m going to move.”

Marian unlaced his trousers and pulled his pants down. She slid them down his legs and tossed them onto the floor. Marian lay down next to him, her head at his waist. He felt her warm breath against his cock. “Turn on your side towards me,” she instructed, and he rolled over. She leaned forward and her hair tickled his thighs. “I'm just guessing,” she said, “but I believe that we begin with something like this.” She licked the head of his cock. “Ah. Do you like that?” She did it again, licking around the side, and over, and teasing the slit in the center with her tongue.

It took all of his effort not to grab her head and thrust into her mouth. “Very much,” he said, and he did not even recognize his own voice.

“But the whore said ‘suck’ and this is just a lick.” She bent her head and sucked the tip in her mouth, gently and then harder.

“More, Marian,” Guy said. His hands sank into her hair, and ran through the strands as she took more of him in her mouth. She sucked harder, and her teeth skimmed his skin.

He cried out in pain, and she stopped what she was doing. “What’s wrong?”

“Teeth,” he explained.

“Oh.” She looked down at his cock, looking forlorn.

“For God's sake, Marian, keep going.”

She looked up at him, startled. “Really?”

“Do. Not. Stop.”

She bent back to her task. Guy watched her, his hand stroking her hair as the pleasure built and built until he exploded. He felt her hand clench his thigh as he cried out. Every muscle in his body relaxed, and Guy closed his eyes with a sigh. He rolled onto his back, panting for air.

A gentle kiss landed on his cheek, followed by one on his temple, his jaw. “That was highly gratifying,” said Marian. She traced the curve of his jaw with her fingers and kissed his chin. He smiled. “Look at that smile,” she said in wonder.

“You have made me a happy man.”

“Then I must do that for you often. I promise to be careful of my teeth.”

Guy laughed and she put her head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the moment, the feeling of peace that was so rare in his life. "I trust you."

“You taste like morels.” Guy opened his eyes and looked over at Marian. She lay propped on one elbow, studying him. “You smell spicy, your skin. I thought you'd taste like that, too. But you don't.”

“I hope I do not displease you.”

“On the contrary, you please me very much indeed.” She played with his hair. “I love you, you know.”

“No, I did not know,” he said softly. “I hoped.”

“It is true.” Marian put her thumb on his chin and steered his face towards hers. “Guy of Gisborne, I am most deeply in love with you.” She kissed the tip of his nose and smiled.

He pulled her into his arms and she wrapped his arms around his neck. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I thought that I would live my life and never hear it. I feared there was some part of me missing, some flaw that others could sense that rendered me… unlovable.” The words burst out of him in a torrent.

“You are a whole man,” she said, her voice fierce. “You lack nothing, my love. Nothing.”

He buried his face in her neck and his eyes burned with unshed tears.

xxxx

They walked up the hill through the town, hand in hand. The moonlight shone off of Guy's sword as he played it through the air. “Don't you think that you're asking for trouble, flaunting a naked blade?” asked Marian.

“I am in too fine a mood to fight,” he said. “I think I'm sending a clear message.”

“Any brigands about will think you drunk,” said Marian.

Guy smiled down at her. “I am drunk. Drunk on possibilities, drunk on our happiness.” He tightened his hand on hers. “I am drunk on love.”

“You are a romantic after all, Guy.”

“Perhaps I am.” He kissed her hand. “You have made me so.”

They trudged up the hill, past quiet houses and closed shops. Their steps rang on the cobblestones in the night. “Guy, have I ever told you of my mother?” Marian asked.

“No,” he replied. “I know that she died when you were but a child.”

“In childbed, when I was five.”

He squeezed her hand. “It is hard thing, to lose your mother young.”

“Guy, what happened to your mother?” She looked up at him, her eyes watchful.

“I lost my mother when I was ten. It was the worst year of my life. My father was executed, his title stripped, lands taken away, our home lost. Everything changed.”

“She died then, that year?” Marian’s eyes searched his face, intent.

Guy shook his head. “My mother entrusted me to Vasey's care and returned to the convent to become Christ's bride once more, as she had been before her marriage to my father.”

“Your mother gave you to Vasey?” Marian’s voice rang out in the night. “She gave that man a child of ten?”

Guy nodded. “To foster in his household, and train to be a squire in his service. Someday, to earn back title and lands and regain the dignity of the Gisborne name.” He looked over at Marian. “It was my only chance to ever make something of myself. Everything I had to do…” He paused for a moment. “It was all worth it in the end, to get a foothold and gain a place in the world again, from nothing.”

“It is something to be proud of, what you have made of yourself.”

“But all I have now, I gained by wrongdoing, Marian. I am so horribly tainted by my past.” He looked down at her with haunted eyes.

“Your past is past, and the future is what matters now.” Marian shook her head. “I cannot believe your mother deserted you and left you with that horrible man.”

“My mother did not desert me. She resumed her calling, the path that led her to peace. She had to renounce me; it was the only way she could return to her vows.”

“I cannot understand it.”

“She deserved a chance to regain what she had lost, just as I did,” said Guy. “I came here to see her, after I became a knight. I wanted to show her I had made something of myself, that I was beginning to reclaim what we once had.”

“Did she see you?”

Guy shook his head. “The abbess sent me a note to tell me that my mother had passed away unexpectedly. She lived a life of great peace and contemplation, in union with God.” Guy smiled down at her. “It pleases me, to think of her so happy.”

They walked through the gates of the abbey. “You chose this place, to give me back to Robin,” said Marian.“Didn’t you?”

He nodded and sheathed his sword. “It seemed fitting to lose both of the women I loved in the same place.”

“But you will not lose me,” Marian said passionately. “We will go through this folly of giving me back to Robin, and I will break with him, and we will start anew in Nottingham.”

They stepped past a shadowed corner, and a rush of air was the only warning they had. Guy cried out in pain as an arrow plunged into his arm. Marian stepped in front of him and pulled the dagger out of her hair.

“Step away, Marian.” Robin emerged from the shadows, his bow at the ready.

“Marian, get out of the way!” Guy tried to move her, but she remained fast.

“You cannot harm him, Robin,” Marian replied. “The king has pardoned him.”

Robin laughed and pulled back his bowstring. “Pardon a murderer, a traitor? Richard would never stoop so low.”

“He has gained the king’s forgiveness, and mine,” Marian explained. Guy shifted her behind him, getting her out of harm's way.

“I have not forgiven him. I never will.” Robin let fly the arrow, and Marian threw the dagger. Robin and Guy cried out in pain at the same time. Robin crumpled to the ground, clutching his injured hand. Blood dripped onto the stones. “Marian!” he yelled.

Marian kneeled down next to Guy. The second arrow was lodged in his shoulder. “Lay still,” she said, and smoothed away the hair from his forehead. “I will run and fetch the physician.” She picked up her skirts and ran like mad across the courtyard towards the nunnery.

Robin sat up, cradling his arm. “She hurt me to save you!” he said incredulously.

Guy laughed. “That’s just the start of her hurting you, Hood.”

Robin gasped as he pulled the dagger from his hand. “She has always been too tender hearted where you are concerned.”

Guy smiled widely. “You have no idea how tender hearted she has become.”

“You are delusional.” Robin rose to his feet and advanced on Guy. “She is my wife. She loves me!”

“Does she?” Guy struggled to a sitting position and raised his sword. “Or has she given her heart elsewhere?”

Robin looked down on him, dagger in hand. “I don’t believe you.”

“Ask her yourself.” Guy’s eyes met Robin’s straight on.

Robin frowned. "Oh, I will."


	10. Changes

Chapter Ten- Changes

Marian ran across the courtyard as fast as she could. She made her way down the corridor to the nunnery and hammered on the door. The peephole slid open. “The Earl of Huntington and the Sheriff of Nottingham are both injured,” Marian explained breathlessly. “Please send for the physician.”

“What?” asked a surprised voice. Marian whirled around to see Allan step out of the shadows.

“Allan? What are you doing here?” His hair was ruffled, as from a high wind, and he held a crumpled piece of fabric in his hands.

A figure stepped into the light. Agnes’ blonde hair floated around her shoulders and her mouth was swollen. “My lady!” She grabbed her wimple and veil from Allan's hands and tried to put herself to rights.

Marian whirled to face Allan. “Have you no control of yourself?”

He snorted. “You're one to talk.”

“Allan,” said Agnes, her tone gently reproving.

“I ran into her in the courtyard,” Allan explained. “She was in a panic that something had happened to you.”

Marian shook her head. “I don't have time for this. I can't leave them alone together.” She turned back and quickly ran back the way she had come.

The two men faced off against each other in the courtyard. Robin's arm was extended, holding her dagger. Guy was still down on the stones, but his sword was drawn, the tip pointed at Robin's chest. “Hold!” Marian yelled. They both turned their heads towards her voice. “Idiots! Stop this now!”

“You owe me an explanation,” said Robin furiously. He waved his injured hand at her.

Marian bent down and pulled at her skirt with a mighty wrench. She came away with a long strip of blue silk. “I will answer every question that you have, after the physician sees Guy.” She took Robin's hand and tightly wrapped it. “Give me my dagger.”

He shook his head. “Not until you explain to me what is going on.”

Marian looked up at him, her eyes serious. “Promise not to hurt Guy.”

“I will do not such thing,” Robin snapped.

Allan ran up. “Come away, Robin. You are hurt.” Allan put his arm around his friend and Robin jerked away.

“You cannot really love him, Marian! He is a monster.”

“Robin, get a hold of yourself." Allan grabbed Robin's elbow. “Have a bit of pride.”

“This is not happening!” Robin pulled away and ran across the courtyard, Allan at his heels.

Marian knelt down next to Guy. “I told you not to move.” She pulled the sword from his hands and set it next to her.

“It seemed imprudent to heed that advice. I'm not the kind of man to take a fight lying down.”

Marian pulled her cloak off and pressed it against the blood flowing from his shoulder. “If you bleed to death I will never forgive you. Lay back, love.” She moved him so that his head rested in her lap.

“It's a shame Mahmoud isn't here,” Guy said quietly, and closed his eyes.

She pressed hard against his wound, watching the blood soak the fabric. “We don't need his level of skill. This is nothing. Any village quack could patch you up. Guy, you hear me?”

He smiled. “How many arrow wounds would I need to have before you worried?”

“You would have to look like a hedgehog,” she said firmly. “Anything else is child's play, really.”

“I need more impressive wounds, then,” said Guy. “I would not want to disappoint you.” He opened his eyes and looked up at her. “Marian, please tell me again. I would like to hear it once more.”

Marian shook her head, and felt tears form in her eyes. “Do not act like you are dying.”

“It seems a shame to die now, when I have never truly lived until tonight.”

Loud voices spilled out in the darkness. Marian turned her head to see two monks carrying a stretcher, followed by a nun in white. “The physician is nearly here.”

“Not that I need one, according to you,” Guy said wryly.

Marian laughed and bent down to kiss him. They loaded Guy into the stretcher and carried him to the infirmary.

xxxx

Hours later, Marian opened the door to her room. A figure stirred from a nest of blankets on the floor. “My lady, how does the sheriff fare?” Agnes asked sleepily.

“He will live,” Marian replied. “He will have the use of his arm, and he will live. I cannot ask for more than that.”

“I will pray for him,” said Agnes.

“So shall I,” Marian replied. “Go back to sleep.” She walked into her chamber and shut the door. “You have waited for some time now, Robin."

A light flared in the dark as Robin lit the lamp next to the bed. “You are the only one I have never been able to sneak up on.”

“A fine accomplishment,” said Marian, “to have the advantage of the great Robin Hood.”

Robin leaned back against the pillows and crossed his arms. His bandaged hand glowed white in the lamplight. “The time has come for your explanation.”

She sighed. “I am tired and drenched in blood.”

“I have seen you in such a state before,” he reminded her.

Marian sat down on the bed next to him. “It was never my intention to hurt you, Robin.”

“I am not hurt yet, but I am ready for the blow.”

“Robin, I love another.”

The words hung in the air. Marian watched his face, still and immobile. “I think you are mistaken," he said finally.

“I know my own heart,” she said. “I am sorry for it, but I do not wish to be your wife.”

He looked at her thoughtfully and raised his eyebrows. “Because you wish to bed Gisborne?”

She flushed. “You are vulgar.”

“As painful as it is to think it, I believe that is the truth,” Robin said gently. “You think you're in love, because that's what noble ladies are supposed to feel. But that's not what it is. It is lust.”

“I have genuine feelings for him,” Marian protested.

“You're attracted to him,” Robin corrected. “You like the look of him. You've always fancied him.” He leaned forward and brushed her hair away from her cheek. “You were with him, alone, for weeks. Intimate, private, in a way that you have never been permitted to be with a man in your sheltered life. It gave him the opportunity to prey on your misplaced affection, to take advantage.”

“That's not what happened."

“You're a woman grown, who should have been bedded years ago. I've always known that your passionate nature would make our marriage bed a good one.” He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling.

“You will not get the chance to test that theory,” said Marian. “I wish to annul the marriage.”

Robin laughed. “No.”

“You cannot deny me if I wish it. The marriage is not lawful, and it will not stand.”

“We shared vows before the king of England himself,” Robin reminded her.

“But I will not share a marriage bed with you,” said Marian. “And unless I do, there is no true bond between us.”

Robin looked at her for a long moment. “You do not wish me to bed you?”

She held herself stiffly. “I do not.”

“Marian, bedding me has been on your mind since your body began to blossom. You have permitted me liberties in the past, remember?” He reached out a hand and traced the curve of her breast.

She slapped his hand away. “I am not the besotted young girl anymore.”

“You gave me your heart years go,” said Robin. “It is too late to deny me now.”

“But I do deny you,” said Marian. “You are not my husband until you take my maidenhead, and that you cannot have.”

“In time, when we are away from here and Gisborne no longer clouds your mind, you will submit to me.”

“I cannot give you what I have already given elsewhere.” Her eyes met his, unflinching.

Robin paled. “You lie.”

Marian raised her chin. “I gave Guy what he is due as my husband.”

"You are my wife!" Robin yelled, pushed beyond all endurance. "Not his! Mine!"

“I pledged my hand to him before all the people of Locksley and the eyes of God,” Marian reminded him. “We exchanged vows and our marriage was blessed by the Church.”

“And then you smashed him in the face!”

“It is not uncommon for husbands and wives to fight,” Marian replied.

“It is at the altar!” Robin clenched his hands into fists. “This is madness, Marian.”

“I have been Lady Gisborne for nigh on a year in name,” Marian explained. “But I have been his wife in truth for weeks.”

Robin asked incredulously. “You have truly...lain with that bastard? He has taken you, bedded you?”

Marian nodded. “And upon occasion,” she said with a grin, “I have bedded him.”

Robin's hand smacked across her face with a resounding slap. She cupped her cheek, her eyes wide. “I love you!” he cried out, his voice breaking. "You are mine!"

Marian pressed her hand to her face. “And I loved you,” she said, and her eyes filled with tears. "So much, for so very long."

“Then how could you betray me?” He grabbed her shoulders. “How could you do this to me?”

“Guy needs me." Tears rolled down Marian's cheeks. “You have never needed anyone.”

“That is not true,” he said nakedly. “Marian, you are the very air I breathe.” He moved forward and covered her mouth with his.

They had never shared a kiss like this one, heated and desperate. Marian recognized the feeling of passion, fueled by anger, by pain. She pushed him away with both hands. “It is too late for us, Robin.”

“You still love me, I know it.” His eyes shone bright in the dark.

“I will always love you, as my first love,” said Marian. “But that is all. I have found a deeper love.”

“There can be no deeper love than this.”

“Trust me, Robin. There is. You will find it yourself in time.”

“I have found everything I need in you. All a man could want.” He clung to her arms, his hands hurting her.

She pulled away.“Robin, when you look at me, do you imagine our children?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps in time.”

She laughed, and it was cold and bitter. “You have not changed since you left me to go on Crusade, Robin. You will never grow up.”

“I admit it. Children are not important to me,” he agreed. “That does not mean I love you any less.”

“I want a home,” she said. “I want a family of my own.”

“I can give you those things,” Robin said. “Marian, I would deny you nothing.”

“But you would not even bury me when you thought me to be dead!” Marian's voice cried out, rich with pain.

“I could not bear to see them put you in the ground,” said Robin, his voice pained.

Marian chuckled. “Oh, yes. Far better for me to wake up in my own grave. I remember the sound of the shovel, the feel of dirt hitting my chest. Grit in my eyes, my mouth. I started coughing and felt the blood pour out of my belly.”

“Christ almighty, Marian.” Robin reached out for her but she pulled away.

“I dream I'm being buried alive,” she said. “I will never lose the feeling of it.”

“You blame me for what happened. You blame me for not protecting you.” Robin wrapped his arms around her waist and flipped her on her back. He knelt over her, and his hands rested on her neck. “I will always look after you,” he whispered. “I will make you love me again.”

A flicker of movement caught her eye. Marian looked up and saw Guy's angry face in the window. She pulled Robin's shoulders so that he fell on top of her. His full weight landed on her stitches, and she let out a genuine scream of pain.

Robin looked down at her with alarm. “Marian!”

The window swung open and Guy stepped through, drawing a long dagger from behind his back. “No!” screamed Marian.

Robin looked down at her, confused. “I am sorry! I will not force you, Marian.”

The door to the outer room opened. Guy slid back into the shadows, disappearing from view. “My lady?” Agnes walked in. “Marian?”

“My lady is injured,” Robin explained. “I have hurt her. I did not mean to.”

Agnes hissed through her teeth. “You have no right to be here!” She grabbed Robin's ear and yanked him upright.

“Damn it!” he cursed. “I have every right! She is my wife!”

Agnes jerked his head and he hissed in pain. “This is a holy place! How dare you sully it with your violence and lust!” She smacked the side of his face.

Robin twisted free of her grip. “This is not over, Marian,” he said angrily. He hopped out the window, the curtain flapping as he went.

Agnes knelt down. “Oh, my lady.” She looked down at Marian's white face.

“I am alright. I do not bleed,” Marian said.

“I will fetch a cup of sleeping draught for the pain,” said Agnes.

Guy stepped out of the shadows. “Leave us, Agnes. I will take care of Marian.”

The nun turned around, startled. “My lord!”

“I will protect her and see that no further harm comes to her,” Guy promised.

“But you are injured yourself,” Agnes protested.

Guy smiled. “Mere splinters, Agnes.”

She crossed her arms. “You will let my lady rest?”

“I promise,” he replied. The nun nodded and left the room.

Guy crossed to the bureau and set down the knife. He poured a glass of pale wine into a delicately formed goblet. “This will help with the pain.”

Marian took the goblet from Guy. She watched him as he closed the windows and drew the curtains shut. "You're supposed to be in the infirmary."

"I knew he would come after you. I slipped away as soon as I could."

Marian sipped the wine. “It is very sweet and good,” she said. “I've never had unwatered wine before.”

“It is a fine local vintage,” Guy explained. “The monks tend the vines themselves.” He winced and poured himself a glass. “I would like a little help with my pain as well.”

Guy drew off his black shirt, pulled it over his head and kicked off his boots. With one smooth gesture he stepped out of his pants and slid naked into her bed. He sighed. “I am the second man that has been in this bed tonight." His eyes searched hers.

“Robin was not here by my invitation,” Marian explained. “He took it upon himself to come here.”

“Hood loves taking things that do not belong to him,” he commented, “or does he not know that you are no longer his?”

“I told him that my heart was taken elsewhere.”

“And yet he was in your bed,” Guy said, “and you permitted him to put his hands on your body.”

“I was taken by surprise."

Guy held up Marian's hairpin dagger from the table next to the bed. “And you had this next to you and did not use it.”

“You would have me stab him again?” Marian said incredulously. “Once tonight was not sufficient?”

“So, you were willing to have him bed you?” Guy's eyes glittered dangerously. “You only hesitated because you saw me?”

“I did not invite his advances and they were not welcome,” she said.

“And yet you did not rebuff him.”

“It is a shame that you weren't here earlier, when I told him that you had taken my maidenhead and he slapped my face. It was quite a different mood, I assure you.” She stood from the bed and drank deep of her wine.

Guy watched her, his eyes uneasy. “But I have not taken your maidenhead.”

Marian put her goblet on the table and pulled off her dress and shift. “By morning, you will have.” She climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

He looked up at her with wide eyes. “Marian, you are not yet well and I am barely healing.” He gestured with his injured arm to his shoulder wrapped in gauze, and pressed his fingers against her own bandage.

Marian reached between his legs and grabbed his cock. She moved her fingers and he began to stiffen. “Not too injured to want me.”

Guy ran his hands along her thighs. “I never stop wanting you.”

“Then show me how much you want me.” Marian’s fingers roused him, and he moaned.

Guy moved his fingers between her legs. “You are wet.”

“You are naked,” she replied. “There is a link between the two.”

Guy looked up at her, his eyes deep. “I cannot believe that you really want me.”

“Then I will have to demonstrate.” Marian moved his fingers aside and poised his cock at her entrance.

“I don't want to hurt you,” Guy said. “This will hurt, your first time.”

“Just once.” Marian looked down at him and smiled. “Please.”

He held her hips in his hands and thrust up into her. She cried out in pain as he moved deeply within. “It will be better the next time,” he vowed. “I will not hurt you again.”

“It burns,” she gasped, and her hands clenched on his arms.

“Never again,” he promised, and shifted angles inside her, moving more shallowly.

“It's too much,” she cried out, and closed her eyes.

“Look at me, Marian," Guy commanded. She met his eyes. “Come for me,” he urged. “Make yourself mine. Lose yourself.”

“I don't know what to do,” she said hoarsely.

“Move, Marian. Please, God, just touch me and move.”

Tentatively, Marian began to move her hips, to match his rhythm. She slid her hands down his chest, feeling his muscles. Her fingers trailed over his arms, feeling their strength. Guy moaned and tightened his hold on her, moving faster. The burning pain receded and she felt a new sensation, something deep, an undercurrent she hadn't felt before.

“Something is happening,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Guy said breathlessly. He closed his eyes and threw back his head. “Oh, Jesus, you are bliss. You are perfect. Marian, I cannot wait.” He moved a thumb to her clit and rubbed in fast circles.

Her mouth opened wide. “Oh God,” Marian said in an eerie high pitched voice. Guy shuddered within her, his skin slick with sweat. Marian's world split apart and she heard Guy cry out her name.

The deed was done.


	11. The Truth Will Out

Dawn had arrived. Guy watched as the sun rose, smearing streaks of orange and pink light across the sky. “Come back to bed,” Marian said sleepily. “It is too early.”

Guy turned away from the window to look at her. Her hair spread across the pillow like a dark banner. He lay down next to her and Marian rolled towards him. She wrapped an arm around his waist and thrust a leg between his. Guy pressed a kiss to her forehead and rested his head against hers. “You are a restless sleeper,” Marian said quietly.

“I hope I did not bother you.” Guy kissed her earlobe, and she shivered.

Marian moved her mouth to cover his. They shared a long, gentle kiss, and she pulled away, stroking his cheek. “Guy, did I please you?” she asked.

He was surprised at her uncertain tone. “You doubt it?”

“I would like to hear it from your lips.”

“Marian, I have never felt this way before. I greatly enjoyed making love with you.” Guy picked up her hand and bit her thumb. She giggled and he smiled. “You have given me joy I never dreamed of.”

“That is not true. I know you dreamed of it. I could see it in your eyes.”

He bit her index finger, and the curve of her wrist. “What could you see in my eyes?”

“Hunger,” Marian explained. “Like I was something delectable and you wanted to empty the platter.”

“That's not far off.” Guy sucked her little finger into his mouth and she shuddered. He sucked harder and she opened her eyes. They were filled with need, hunger. “You like it.”

“I like everything you do to me,” Marian said, and blushed. He sucked her thumb into his mouth and she made a whimpering noise. “Oh, I cannot think when you do that.”

Guy felt his cock stir. “Tell me what else you like.”

“I cannot.”

He bit the heel of her hand, nipped the edges of her fingers. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Touch me.”

Guy's fingers slid down between her legs and Marian gasped. “Are you sore?”

She looked up at him. “Yes.”

Disappointment filled him. Marian reached down and put her hand on his cock. Her eyes widened. “But you are ready.”

“I cannot help it,” Guy said. “I am extremely roused by you.”

Marian moved aside the covers, leaving him naked. “I can see that.”

Guy looked down at his erection. There were smears of blood on his cock and thighs. He rolled out of bed and crossed to the dresser. He wet a linen bandage with water and cleaned himself off. He turned to the bed and pulled Marian's legs apart. She locked her knees together. “I can clean myself up,” she said.

“I wish to see you, to make sure I did not do you an injury.”

Marian looked up at him, her eyes wary. “I am no more injured than any other woman newly rid of her virginity.”

“Please just humor me."

Marian relaxed her legs, and Guy knelt between them. She had streaks of blood on her thighs, testament to her lost purity. It was not nearly as much blood as he had feared. He wiped her clean with basin and linen and set them on the bedside table.

Guy spread her thighs apart and moved his mouth between them. He licked her in strong, long strokes. Marian moaned and pressed her hands into his shoulders. She thrust her hips upward, and he pulled away. “I will be slow and gentle and I will stop if I am hurting you. But please, please do not deny me," he said raggedly.

Marian looked up at him, her eyes hazy with passion. “I will deny you nothing.”

Guy ran his hands over her breasts, cupping their weight in his hands. He bent to kiss her nipples, sucking each one until they were hard against his tongue. He lifted her hips and slid smoothly inside her. Carefully he began to move inside her tentatively, so gently. Marian gasped, and her head lolled back. “Tell me I'm not hurting you,” Guy said, his voice tight.

Marian arched her back and rocked against him. “Not pain,” she gasped, and she cupped his buttock with one hand and thrust upwards.

It was so hard to control himself. She lay underneath him, her hair spread across the pillow, lost in pleasure that he was giving her. She was so tight and wet around him, and she matched him, moving in unison, thrust for thrust. She was made for him.

He moved his hands up her arms and pressed his thumbs against her wrists. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Tell me what you're thinking.”

“Lovely,” he said. ”You are so fucking lovely and tight and warm and I want to make you scream, Marian.”

“More,” she murmured, and wrapped her legs around his waist. The pace of their lovemaking accelerated, the strokes faster, harder.

It was too much. He came in a rush, crying out as waves of release crashed through him. He rolled off of her and lay down next to her, breathless. “I'm sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” asked Marian.

“Because you make me lose my head,” Guy said, and covered his face with a pillow.

She grabbed it away. “Why are you hiding from me?”

“Because I'm embarrassed! I wanted to show you how good we could be together, and I acted like a selfish bastard.” He turned to look at her. “I'm really not a selfish bastard, Marian.”

She laughed. “Why would I think you were one?”

“Because a decent lover makes sure his lady is well satisfied before he seeks his own pleasure,” Guy explained.

“But I am well satisfied,” Marian said.

Guy shook his head. “You didn't find your own pleasure. It was all mine.”

“I did last night,” said Marian. “That was very good.”

Guy shook his head. “Doesn't count.” He put her hand on his limp cock. “Touch me a bit, and talk to me. I'll make it up to you.”

“But I'm fine, really,” Marian said, and moved her hand away.

“Do you not want me?” he asked.

“I am very sore between my legs,” she admitted.

“Oh, I am so thoughtless. I should have not imposed myself upon you again so soon.”

She laughed. “You are wonderful and lovely.” She curled herself around him, resting her head on his chest. One hand idly traced the line of hair from his navel to the patch of his pubic hair.

“Touching me like that will not make me think of sex any less.”

“Perhaps I will do this then.” Marian ran her fingers through his hair. He relished the sensation, the warm feeling of lassitude that filled him.

“I forgot to tell you I loved you last night,” he said.

“You love me,” she said, and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Even after you have bedded me. That is a relief.”

“I would hardly love you less, after you finally lay with me.” Guy kissed her elbow.

“They say some men lose interest after they get what they have been chasing after.” Marian stared into his eyes.

“If you think that of me, you do not understand how very deeply I love you,” he said. “This is the beginning, Marian. Just the beginning.” They lay together in bed, nested like spoons in a drawer. “I had a plan, you know, for the first time that I made love to you,” Guy explained.

Marian rolled onto her side to face him. “Was it a detailed plan?” she asked. She reached out and tucked his hair behind his ear. “You need a haircut, Guy.”

"Very detailed. I even had a speech prepared,” Guy explained.

“A whole speech?”

Guy nodded. “I even practiced it, to make sure I would remember.”

“I'm sure I can guess some of the key points,” said Marian.

“Am I so predictable?” asked Guy.

“Well, there's wealth,” said Marian. “You talk about that a good bit.”

“Women want to feel secure, comfortable,” Guy explained.

“I think you overestimate how much I care about that.” Marian kissed his chin, and then his mouth.

“But I want to provide for you, give you a life of comfort."

“A very admirable quality.” Marian bent and kissed his shoulder.

“Are you mocking me?” asked Guy.

“No, my love. Pray continue with your speech.”

“Yes, the speech. I was honored to be your husband, and I would always protect you and love you, and how I was so very fortunate to share your life and your bed.”

“And that was your segue to take me to your chamber and bed me, wasn't it?”

“Well, it was flexible, my plan. If you seemed overly nervous after the wedding, I had a plan to take you for a ride on horseback. Let you unwind, soothe your nerves.”

“That is very thoughtful,” said Marian. “It would indeed have put me at my ease.”

“I had also planned a meal with all of your favorite foods, the honey wine that you favor.”

“And after the honey wine, what was your plan?” Marian looked at him with wide, golden eyes.

“I hoped, to take you and make you mine,” Guy said softly. “But I did not wish to force you, and I was afraid that you would be repulsed by me. I didn't know how to show you what was in my heart.” He took a deep breath. “I thought I would have to take it very slow. Get you to kiss me, and then permit gentle caresses. I thought it would take months more of wooing to get you to accept me in your bed.”

“You make it sound like breaking a horse.”

He laughed. “In a way, that is how I thought of it. Helping you adjust to my body, my hands. my scent.”

“Little did you know that I would be an eager student in the arts of love," she teased.

“You have many mysteries, my love. I do not understand them yet. But I will in time.”

"I trust you, Guy," said Marian. "I will show you all of myself, now. Even the parts that I fear you will dislike."

Guy cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “I am sorry for so many things. If I had made different choices, this all would have happened for us long ago.”

“What's past is past,” Marian said. “I promise. I will never hold anything against you from before. We start fresh, from this moment on.”

He smiled. “Agreed.” They kissed, long and lingering.

“So was there a speech for after the bedding, when you had succeeded in making me yours?”

Guy shook his head. “No speech, other than further avowals of my love and the presentation of a ring I had commissioned.”

“What does this ring look like, this sop to console the loss of my maidenhead?” Marian grinned widely, but he did not smile.

“It was a gold ring, with the Gisborne badge emblazoned in emeralds. It had our initials engraved upon it, a G and M entwined.” Guy frowned, his eyes dark and angry.

Marian covered her mouth and her eyes widened. He heard a stifled gasp. “Yes, you recall it now, I see. You stole it,” he said flatly. “You stole it the night you broke into Locksley as the Nightwatchman.”

“I remember it,” she said in wonderment. “It is in the treasure store at Robin's camp.”

“I was sure it had long been sold off to buy food for the poor,” he said, his voice sharp.

“I will ask Robin for it back,” said Marian.

Guy shook his head. “I will have a new ring made, for our new beginning.”

A knock came at the door. “My lady, you are summoned to the audience chamber to meet with the King's clerk,” said Agnes. “Also, Allan is here, looking for Guy.”

“I am here, Agnes,” Guy called.

“You must ready yourself and depart,” the nun replied. “It is not wise to let your betters wait.”

Guy rose from the bed and pulled on his clothes. Marian wrapped herself in the bed sheet and rose on tiptoe to kiss him goodbye. He ran his hands down her naked back and cupped her ass. She grabbed his head in both hands and deepened the kiss.

Guy scooped her up in his arms and tossed her backwards on the bed. She squeaked with alarm, her eyes wide. In seconds he had pulled down his pants, moved aside the sheet around her waist and was inside her again. “I will make you come this time, my sweet.” Guy found her swollen bud and rubbed it with his fingers as he thrust in and out of her.

“More,” she whimpered, and he complied. They moved together, fast and urgent. He sucked on her neck, harder and harder. Her fingernails scratched down his arms as she threw her head back and came.

Guy watched her face flare with color, her mouth open in a silent scream. "There it is, my lovely." He closed his eyes and gave in to the pressure that was within him, finding his own release again.

They lay together, panting for breath. “Oi!” yelled Allan. “Stop balling and get the hell up!” Guy laughed and so did Marian, her shoulders heaving.

Marian looked over at him, her face still flushed with her orgasm. “We'd best pull ourselves together,” she said.

Guy moved a sweaty strand of hair from her face. “I wish we could just stay in bed and let the world go hang.”

She kissed his chin. “We need to get that pardon finalized, so that you don't actually hang.”

He closed his eyes. “Yes, that is very important.”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “Guy, duty calls.”

Guy cupped her ass in his hand. “I would rather lie here and do my duty with you.”

Marian laughed. “Up. No more. Guy. I will barely be able to walk as it is.”

Guy kissed her cheek and sat up. “Thank you, my love, for the best night of my life.”

She pulled him in for another deep kiss. “You are most welcome, my love, for the most surprising night of mine.”

xxxx

Marian was late. The audience chamber was filled with people: the clerk sent by King Richard, a complement of royal soldiers, Hood and his men, a cluster of priests, and a gaggle of nuns.

Guy crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. “Maybe she’s changed her mind and she’s not coming,” Allan suggested.

The doors opened and Marian appeared. She wore a long red dress, her hair loose over her shoulders. Agnes followed closely at her heels.

A page rose to his feet. “Will the Sheriff of Nottingham and the Earl of Huntington please step forward.”

Guy walked to the dais. The king's clerk sat before it at a wide wooden table, scattered with parchments, quills, sealing wax and inkpots. He looked up at Guy. “Name?”

“Sir Guy of Gisborne, Sheriff of Nottingham.”

The clerk cocked his head to one side. “Is there a witness here to attest that this indeed the sheriff?”

“That’s him, alright,” Allan said helpfully.

“Excellent. And the Earl of Huntington? Please step forward, as has been ordered by your king.”

Robin stepped forward to the table. “Name?”

“Robin,” he said brightly.

Guy turned his head and sneered at him. “Idiot.”

Robin looked over at Guy and raised an eyebrow. “I drew the bead on you twice last night. Who’s the idiot?”

“Took two of your arrows and still bedded Marian all night long,” Guy said in a low voice. “Who’s the idiot?”

Robin punched Guy in the stomach and he doubled over. “Hold!” said Marian, running forward. “Idiots!”

The clerk stood up. “My lords! We are here on the king’s business. Be civil or the consequences will not be to your liking.”

Guy pulled himself up to his full height and crossed his arms. “Let’s get this over with.” Marian stood at his side.

The clerk turned to Robin. “Name?” he said sharply.

“Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntington,” he replied crisply.

"And is there a witness to attest to this?" asked the clerk.

"That's my lord, the Earl of Huntington," called Much.

"Very good." The clerk unrolled a long roll of parchment. “I have a message from the King.”

The witnesses turned to speak with one another, and a low undercurrent filled the room. “Silence!” the king’s guard called. “Hold your tongues.”

The messenger cracked the seal on the parchment and began to read. “Firstly, this is Harold of Naughton, my loyal servant and faithful clerk. He has undoubtedly been cooling his heels in Marseille for weeks now, awaiting the arrival of both parties. I remind you that he is simply the messenger. Any attack on his person will be construed as treason and the offender will be dealt with immediately and swiftly.”

“That does not bode well,” Marian commented.

Harold cleared his throat. “In the event that the Countess of Huntington has not survived the voyage, I send my deepest condolences to her husband, the Earl of Huntington, and remind the Sheriff of Nottingham that he has pressing business to attend to in England and he must return there forthwith.” Harold looked up. “I assume that the Countess survived.” He looked at Marian, who crossed her arms.

“You are a remarkably astute man, Harold of Naughton,” said Guy dryly. “Clearly Richard picks only the very sharpest men to serve him personally.” His smirk towards Robin did not go unnoticed.

Robin rolled his eyes. “Sod off, Gisborne.”

“Be polite, Guy,” said Marian. “It is his job to shepherd us through this inane charade.”

The clerk blushed. “May I continue?”

Robin waved his hand at him. “Please do.”

“If the Countess has survived the voyage, the pardon written by me at Acre will now be stamped with my seal and made official.” Guy stepped forward and handed his parchment to the clerk. Harold unrolled it, read it quickly, and melted a large pool of red wax onto the paper. He pressed a metal stamp into it that was the size of his hand.

“It is hereby announced that Sir Guy of Gisborne has been pardoned by my hand for any and all crimes he has committed in the past, including but not limited to treason, murder, extortion, rape, sodomy, arson, usury, thievery and failing to keep the Sabbath day holy,” the clerk read. Guy kept his gaze on the clerk, his face impassive. He felt Marian’s gaze upon his face. “The Crown has spoken on this matter. Let it be known throughout the land that the name of Sir Guy of Gisborne is an unsullied one, and the king’s mercy has prevailed in this matter.”

Guy stepped forward and approached the clerk. “Give me my copy of the pardon.”

The clerk shook his head. “The proceedings are not yet completed.”

“What more is there left to do?”

“The king has asked for a private session between yourself and my lord and lady Huntington.” He jerked his head at the page, who nodded.

“Good gentles,” announced the page. “A nuncheon has been prepared and awaits you all in the Great Hall.”

The witnesses filed out. Much turned and cast a worried glance at Robin, who shook his head.

“My lady, pray take a seat,” said the clerk. “I fear it will be some time before we are finished here.” The page brought Marian a chair.

Marian blushed. “I prefer to stand.”

Robin shrugged. “Well, I will sit.” He plopped down in the chair and crossed his ankles.

The clerk began to read. “Now that the formalities are out of the way, there is a conundrum that must be sorted through. It is a snarled web the three of you have woven, with betrothals and betrayals galore. In an effort to determine whose claims are valid and who must suffer disappointment, I dispatched Harold to investigate the allegations that were brought to my attention by Sir Guy of Gisborne. In respect of the services Gisborne has provided to the throne and in consideration of those he has not yet performed, I have honored his request.

“The betrothal agreement of 3 April, 1187 laid out the alliance of the houses of Locksley and Knighton on the marriage of their heirs, Robert and Marian. On the death of Edward of Knighton, his lands, monies, and rents were to go to his son in law, the earl of Huntington, as he had no male heir. The title of Earl of Knighton and Huntington was to be created and pass down to the eldest male heir of that line. This understanding was signed by Robert of Locksley, Earl of Huntington, and Sir Edward of Knighton, then Sheriff of Nottingham and his vassal. Robin of Locksley broke this betrothal agreement in August of 1188, after the death of his father. In restitution he paid Edward of Knighton the sum of 20 silver.”

Marian turned to Robin. “Twenty silver! That would not buy a decent cow!”

Robin flushed. “Edward understood that it was nothing personal; my duty to king and country was more important than our betrothal.”

Marian raised her eyebrows. “So you deemed crushing my dreams of love and marriage an impersonal event?”

“You cannot fault me for choosing loyalty and obedience to God and country over you,” Robin argued.

“I certainly do not fault you for it,” Guy interjected. “I thank you for it, most heartily.”

Marian whirled and pointed a finger. “You stay out of it!”

Guy smiled and crossed his arms across his chest. “I apologize, my love. Pray continue shouting at Hood.”

The messenger cleared his throat. “My lords and lady, it is a long document and I have been greatly looking forward to nuncheon. There is starling pie and currant wine waiting.”

“Pray continue,” said Marian. “I apologize for our appalling lack of manners.”

The clerk found his place in the parchment and resumed reading. “Robin of Locksley entered military service as a member of the King's Guard. He served under me on Crusade in the Holy Land and saved my life on many occasions.

During this period, Sir Guy of Gisborne opened negotiations for a betrothal with Marian of Knighton. Sir Edward consented to the match and the contract was signed on her behalf on April 12, 1193. In return for the hand of Lady Marian, Sir Guy paid Edward of Knighton the sum of one thousand gold marks.”

Marian turned to Guy. “Where on earth did you get that kind of money?”

“Dirty money,” Robin supplied. “Taken from the poor and suffering of our shire, to buy a noble bride like a horse at market.”

“Earned in service to Vasey,” Guy explained.

“But why did Father ask you for such a ridiculous sum?” said Marian. “You could have bought the North of England for that.”

“He knew he had me at a disadvantage,” said Guy. “I made the mistake of telling your father of my love, and in return he bled me dry.”

“But Father did not have that money when he passed away,” Marian argued.

“The funds were intact with his agent in York,” said Guy. “Whatever his plans were, he died before he was able to put them into place.”

“How do you know that?” asked Marian.

“If you let me finish reading this infernal document, I can answer that question,” Sir Harold interjected. “The Bishop of Nottingham announced the banns for the marriage of Sir Guy of Gisborne and Marian of Knighton three times in April and May of 1193. The Earl of Huntington did not protest the match, his prior claim to the hand of Marian of Knighton was negated, and the marriage was duly performed on the 12th of May, 1193, and entered into ecclesiastical record.”

“That marriage was not valid,” Robin protested.

“The priest deemed it valid, and it was upheld by a ruling from the ecclesiastical court of the bishopric of York,” said the clerk.

Robin whirled, his eyes bright. “You bought the bishop, didn’t you, Gisborne? You put money in his pocket to force him to rule the marriage valid.”

Guy met his stare. “Prove it.”

“What ruling?” asked Marian.

“Sir Guy of Gisborne filed his claim to the revenue and title for Knighton after the passing of Sir Edward. This claim was found to be valid on October 2, 1193 by the Archbishop of York, who mandated to Sir Clenton Vasey, then Sheriff of Nottingham, to pass on all revenues from the Knighton properties to Gisborne. He filed for permission to build a castle on the Knighton Hall property, now known as Knighton Manor, which was also granted. Permits for the beginning of construction were granted in November of that year.”

Robin laughed. “Well. Isn't that a great deal of fascinating information, Harold.”

Marian grabbed Guy’s arm and looked up at him. “You stole my land and my money?” Marian said incredulously.

“I took what was rightfully mine as your husband,” Guy relied.

“You knew that I did not consider myself your wife!"

Guy looked down at her, his gaze unflinching. “From the moment your father signed the dower contract, you were mine. It was made official when you swore vows to me in Locksley.”

Marian's hands formed into fists. “So my freedom, my choices were illusions?”

“I felt if I gave you the freedom you so desperately wanted, you would return to me in time,” said Guy. “I hoped you would come willingly to me to share my life. I wanted you in a true marriage; I did not wish to take you by force.”

“But don’t you see that every conversation we shared, every look, every feeling was a falsehood?” asked Marian.

“I chose to see it as steps that were gained towards the understanding we have now,” said Guy. “The process itself was irrelevant, Marian; it is the end result that matters.”

Marian stepped away from him. “I fear that you are very much mistaken, Guy. It matters to me a great deal.”

“It is too late now for regrets, Marian,” he said. “Your own actions cannot be undone.”

“You planned all of this, from the very beginning,” she accused.

“I intended to give you to Locksley here in Marseille, admit my actions and provide an annulment,” Guy explained. “I promised Richard I would do so. He sent for the envoy from Rome so that our annulment would be resolved and you would return to Locksley’s arms a virgin bride.”

Marian’s hands clenched in fury. “You are an utter bastard.”

“She'll never forgive you, you know,” said Robin.

“My wife's feelings or lack thereof, are not your concern.”

“They will be when she leaves you and comes back to me,” said Robin. “And she will.”

Marian whirled. “Stop fighting over me like two dogs over a bone!” Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “God, I hate men!” She turned to leave the room.

“My lady, please let me finish,” said the clerk. “The matter of the hand of Lady Marian must be settled. The question boils down to one salient point: annulments may be procured, ties broken, but the question of an heir is the question that renders marital ties unbreakable. If the lady has consummated her match with Sir Guy of Gisborne, and there is the possibility of an heir, the ruling of the bishop of York must be upheld.” The clerk raised his head from the paper. “My lady, I would not ask you this ungentlemanly question if it were not my duty.”

Marian raised her chin and met his stare. “I prefer not to answer.”

“If you do not answer, my lady, I am instructed to charge you with treason and remove you to London.”

Marian blanched. “Is that so?”

Guy watched Marian's face, pale and unmoving, as stiff as she had been when she faced execution. “My lady and I enjoy a lively marriage bed,” he said. “With the grace of God, she will bear my heir within the year.”

Robin turned to her. “Marian?”

“Is this true, my lady?” asked Sir Harold.

Marian nodded stiffly. “It is true.” She strode to the door.

“My lady, you are still not free to leave,” Harold reminded her.

Marian stopped, one hand on the door. “Read quickly. I cannot bear to hear any more of this.”

“In recognition of her bravery in the attempt on my life at Acre, I bestow upon Marian of Knighton the title Countess of Knighton in her own right. Without her sacrifice, I would not be here today.”

Marian turned to face the messenger, her eyes wide. “What?”

“She is also granted the lands and rents of all other towns in the Knighton district: Clun; Nettlestone; and Bonchurch; and all estates therein.”

“But those are my lands!” Robin protested. “Those are my estates!”

“The Earl of Huntington is granted the length and breadth of Sherwood Forest, to be incorporated in the property of the earldom in perpetuity. He has the sole right to all its verts and venison, to use as he wishes. ”

“But that is madness!” Guy protested. “The forest land is massive; it overlaps two shires!"

“Sir Guy of Gisborne, hold your tongue,” the clerk read. “Gisborne, in recognition of the treachery and ill dealings of your past, you will never hold the title of Earl of Knighton; your lady will always outrank you, in title and nobility. If God blesses you with sons, your eldest will become the heir to the earldom when he reaches the age of majority.”

“The Countess of Knighton and the Sheriff of Nottingham are commanded to renew their vows in the presence of the Bishop of Marseille and be publicly bedded at the home of Baron Montaillaut, here in Marseille. The king wishes the matter of the marriage to be settled beyond question.”

“Marian, you cannot marry Gisborne. You cannot stay with him,” Robin argued. “You do not know what he is.”

“My wife knows all about me she needs to know,” said Guy.

“Is that so, Marian? Has your so-called husband shared the truth of his past?” said Robin. “Did you not know that his own mother sold him to Vasey so that he could serve the knights on his knees?” Robin's eyes glittered dangerously. “Has he not told you how he submitted to them, how he was willingly buggered by pederasts?”

Marian's face flew to Guy's. “No. He lies.” Her eyes searched his. “Guy?”

“He can’t deny it,” said Robin. “He knows the truth when he hears it.” Guy saw red. He threw himself at Robin with a mighty roar. He grabbed the smaller man around the waist and they crashed into the floor. They rolled, pummeling each other.

Marian turned back to the clerk. “Is that all, then?” The clerk nodded. “ Well, Sir Harold, I hope that you can stay and attend the festivities. I’m sure it will be a lovely wedding.” She looked over to where the two men who loved her were battering each other into a bloody pulp on the floor. “Behold the bridegroom, drunk with happiness. If they come up for air, pray tell them that they can both go to the Devil.”

“Very good, my lady,” said the clerk.

With her head held high, Marian left the room.


	12. Wounds

Today was her wedding day- again. Marian sighed and set the burgundy velvet dress she held aside. She picked up another of brown silk and looked at it. It failed to please.

Agnes looked over at her with a sharp look. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. There are worse things then marrying a handsome man who adores you.”

“Guy is handsome, there's no denying that.” Marian tossed the dress back into the trunk. “But he's a liar and a schemer. The underhanded way that he has behaved! Agnes, there seems to be no end to the secrets he conceals within himself.”

“My lady, you must look past your feelings to the broader view,” Agnes explained. “The Sheriff loves you. He has forced your hand, yes. But because he wants you so ardently, not just to gain your lands or your money. Besides,” she said with a sharp look, “you have no choice. You have been commanded to do this by your king. Acting like a petulant child will solve nothing.”

Marian rolled her eyes. “I am not being petulant!”

Agnes gestured to the trunk of gowns that sat before them. “Lovely gowns, one and all. Worth a king's ransom, I do not doubt! Every one, fitting to wear on your wedding day. And still you fuss and carry on!”

Marian yelled with frustration. “But I am sick of being told that I must do things! Or not do something else! It's always some man, telling me how I may or may not live my own life!”

“We do not live in a woman's world, my lady,” Agnes reminded her. “Men rule, men inherit, and men are the ones who wield authority.”

“But I am as strong as any man,” Marian argued. “As smart, as able. Why must my destiny be forced upon me?”

Agnes looked at her with wise eyes. “God made men and women differently. We have different roles and different ways of making the world our own. If you would stop butting your head against it, you would see that as a married woman you have more power than you had before. You will have a husband at your side who seeks your thoughts, who respects what you have to say. You are no brood mare or trophy bride. You are getting what all women want: love, wealth and rank. Those of us with less are more gracious than you, my lady.”

Marian colored. “Agnes, I do not know what to say.”

“Do you know why I am here at the abbey?” Agnes asked. Marian shook her head.

“My father brought me here as a child of twelve. I would not consent to a match with the duke of Kent.” She shuddered. “He was a vile man, old enough to be my grandfather. He pawed at me when we were alone, and smelled. He told me he could not wait to sire an heir on me.”

“What did you do?” asked Marian.

“I told my father that I refused the match. He beat me and starved me, and I would not relent. He gave me to Kent, who ravished me. They dragged me to the church in chains, and I would not open my mouth to say the vows. So my father brought me here, to my mother's country. He gave the abbess my dowry to earn my place, and he left me behind. I was made to serve God, since I refused to bend to my father's will.”

Marian patted the other girl's arm. “Oh, Agnes.”

“Today you will take your vows and I will be released from mine,” Agnes explained. “I will ask the Abbess to be released from the novitiate.”

“Is this because of Allan?” asked Marian.

Agnes shook her head. “I have had doubts about my calling for some time. That is why I traveled to the Holy Land in the first place.” She smiled at Marian. “Even you could see that I was not cut out to be the bride of Christ. I am not cut out to be a wife, either.” She smiled, and her eyes were sad. “But I know now that I do not belong here, just as I know that your place is at the Sheriff's side.”

Marian gripped her hand tightly. “I want you to come home with me to Knighton. You will be free to make your own choices. I will provide you with a home and every comfort, and you will be free to make your life whatever you wish it to be.”

Agnes protested. “Surely you must ask the sheriff if he approves?”

Marian smiled. “My sweet Agnes, I am a countess now, with estates of my own. Surely we can find one of them where you wish to live?”

Agnes smiled and threw her arms around her in a hug. “Thank you!”

“It is my pleasure, Agnes. I would miss you too much if I had to leave you behind.”

A crash and a bang came from the bedroom. Marian rushed to the doorway to see Guy face down on the floor in front of the open window. Guy rolled to his side and gingerly rose to his feet. “I wish a private word with my lady, Agnes,” he said, and grabbed the corner of the bureau for balance.

Agnes touched Marian on the shoulder. “I am eager to settle my decision with the abbess. I must go.”

“We depart at four for the church,” said Marian. “I wish you to be there when I take my marriage vows.”

Agnes nodded. “I will not disappoint you.” The nun turned and left.

Marian turned back to Guy, her arms crossed. “Well, you just missed a visit from Sister Lucia. She has removed the stitches and professed me fit. But it appears that you have need of some stitches of your own.” She touched a cut on his cheekbone and he winced. She put her arm around his waist and helped him to the bed.

Guy fell heavily against the pillows. “I am not so worried about my face, but I believe that I have opened up the wound in my shoulder.”

“It is no more than you deserve for brawling like an animal,” Marian replied. She pulled off his boots and tossed them aside. “Sit up a bit so I can pull off your jacket.” He struggled up on his elbows and Marian helped him slide off the black leather.

Underneath, Guy's shirt was wet to the touch. Marian's hand came away red with blood. She carefully moved his arms to free him from the sleeves. “Damn,” he muttered.

The bandage on his shoulder was soaked through with blood, and it trickled down his chest. Marian walked to the outer room and fetched the small chest that Mahmoud had given her. She set it on the bureau, and took out a clay cup and an infusion of herbs. She poured water over the herbs and set it aside.

Marian fetched the basin of water and fresh bandages, and set next to Guy on the bed. She pulled off the ruined bandage, cleaned off the wound and pressed a linen cloth to it to staunch the bleeding.

Marian looked at Guy's face. His eyes were closed, his face pale. “I think that someday when I tell our children the wonderfully romantic story of our wedding day, I will leave this part out,” she said.

He smiled, and then winced. “Ouch.” He gingerly touched his lip.

Marian took another cloth and wet it, and cleaned the cut in the corner of his mouth, and the deep cut next to his eye. “You're lucky you didn't lose this eye,” she commented. She leaned forward. “That's quite a gouge.”

“Hood looks worse than I do,” Guy stated. Marian shot him a pointed look. “Nothing permanent.”

“How reassuring,” she said dryly. She put Guy's hand on the linen pressed to his shoulder and walked to the bureau. She returned, holding the clay cup. “Drink this for the pain.”

“You said it tastes like hell.” Guy wrinkled his nose.

“Well, it does, but it works,” she said.

“I'd rather suffer,” Guy replied.

“I could threaten to tie you to the bed and force you to drink it,” said Marian.

He cocked an eyebrow. “You would tie me to the bed?” He smirked, his eyes full of mischief.

Marian nodded. “Yes.”

“If I promise to drink it, will you let me tie you up?” he asked hopefully.

“Do you think of nothing but sex?”

“I have thought of little else since I first saw you naked,” Guy explained. “And since you have let me bed you, my thoughts have been full of nothing else whatsoever.”

“Just drink the infusion,” Marian said, and handed him the cup. He drained the cup, pulled a face and handed it to her. She put the empty cup on the side table.

“Again, Guy, you dissemble. Not all your thoughts were of me today. Your sole focus earlier was on pounding Robin's head into the floor.”

He frowned and looked away. “He deserved it.”

“Sit up for me, love.” Guy carefully obeyed, wincing with pain. “I am going to put some fresh bandages on now. It will hurt, but the infusion will begin to work soon.”

Marian rubbed on some of Mahmoud's healing salve onto the arrow wound and Guy roared. “Bloody fucking hell, that stings!”

“Hush now, it's alright,” Marian said soothingly, and blew on his wound. “There, now. Better.” She wrapped a long strip of linen around Guy's shoulder and secured it. “Now, don't get into any more mischief until it heals.” She pressed a gentle kiss onto the bandage.

Guy's fingers slid into her hair. “You kissed my wound,” Guy said, his voice puzzled.

“Did your mother never kiss your little cuts and scrapes when you were small?” teased Marian.

“No,” he replied. “That was not her way.” Marian was reminded again of the coldness of the abbess, the hateful glare of the woman who had birthed Guy. Anger and sympathy mingled filled her chest.

Marian kissed his cheek. “Just a bit of sweet to speed the healing.”

Guy turned his mouth to hers. “Kiss me truly, Marian.” His fingers trailed down her back.

Marian shook her head and pulled away. “I am still most put out with you, Guy. I am sorry that you are pained, but I am not yet ready to forgive you.”

“But you still... love me?” he asked. The uncertainty in his voice struck her to the core.

Marian took his hand and looked in his eyes. “I am not so inconstant that a disagreement would cause me to cease loving you. I am hurt and angry, and I do not understand why you were not honest with me.”

“I feared...” Guy stopped. He swallowed and looked at her with sad, dark eyes. “Marian, please just come to me.” He dropped her hand and opened his arms. The raw need in his voice carried straight to her soul.

Marian lay down next to him and put her head on his uninjured shoulder. “I had never known love before I knew you,” said Guy. “I thought love was for weak men. I laughed at my fellow knights who wrote courtly poems to their ladies, or members of my guard who wanted home leave to be with a pregnant wife or an ailing child. It was outside my experience, as remote and unknowable as the stars.”

“But you fell for me,” said Marian lightly.

“I fell, indeed, and hard. I fought it, and denied it. I wanted nothing to do with it. I have seen terrible things done in the name of love,” Guy said, his voice deep with emotion. “I knew that my life would be no easier for it. Deep in my heart, I knew you would never come to love me. The most I could hope for was that you would agree to bear my children and carry on my name. You would give our children wit and courage, and you would give them of yourself, your laughter and fire.” He smiled, and it was sad. “It is a hard thing, to be envious of children who are not yet born.”

“But my heart was free, when we first met,” said Marian. “Why were you so sure that I would never love you?”

“My own mother could not bring herself to love me,” he admitted. Guy gazed up at the ceiling, his eyes unblinking. “What hope had I of winning your heart?”

Marian bit her lip so that she would not cry. “Guy, people have different ways of showing love. Your mother may have had difficulty expressing how she felt.”

He closed his eyes and turned his face away. “No, Marian. My mother had no difficulty expressing herself. From a very early age she made it clear that I was unwanted, a disappointment, and unworthy of love.”

Marian reached out and touched his cheek. He flinched from her touch. “Guy.”

“Please don't,” he said. “I cannot bear to look into your eyes and see pity there.” He rolled on his side, turning away from her.

She stroked his back. “What Robin said, about your mother and... Vasey?”

Guy stiffened, and Marian felt the muscles in his back tighten under her hand. “Leave it, Marian.”

“Please look at me,” asked Marian.

“I will not.” His voice was hard and distant, the voice of command.

Marian kissed the back of his neck and curled an arm around his waist. “I love you, Guy.”

He sighed. “No.”

“I love you, Guy. I will stay with you always and bear your children.” She licked the back of his neck and bit the fleshy part of his ear.

“Stop, Marian.” The voice was less sure.

“I will let you tie me up. I will let you do anything you wish to me. I will like all of it, because you are the man I love. You.” She bit the back of his neck and sucked his earlobe between her teeth.

“Umm,” he said. “Oh.” Marian licked the edge of his ear and bit the lobe again. He made a strangled noise and flipped over to face her. “I have sensitive ears,” Guy explained. “And I like it very much when you bite me.”

“I noticed,” she said, and bit his other ear.

Guy put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “Tell me more.”

“The future lies ahead of us, a new life together, full of promise.”

Guy kissed her then, his mouth insistent against hers. “I love you,” he whispered.

“And I love you. We will be happy, Guy. I will help you keep rule in Nottingham with an even hand. I will share your bed at night and make love with you.”

“That sounds exceedingly pleasant,” Guy murmured, and his tongue slid into her mouth. He shifted his weight and she felt his erection press against her belly.

Marian looked up at him. “I will keep your secrets, Guy, and I will trust you with my own.”

Guy shook his head. “You do not want to know my secrets, my sweet. You will hate me and I will lose you forever.”

“I promise I will love you, no matter what you say or do,” said Marian. “And you must promise the same. There must be no more lies between us.”

“I am not used to trusting anyone,” Guy explained. “I am always waiting for the knife in my back.”

“That is no way to begin a marriage,” said Marian. “We must begin as we mean to go on. If there are secrets in the past that can undo what we have now, they must be brought to light.”

Guy was silent for a long moment. “I fear, Marian, that too much truth can kill our love as much as too little can.”

She leaned forward and kissed him. “Guy, I know that what Robin said about your mother was true.”

He opened his mouth to protest. “It was not!”

“There was a kernel of truth therein; there had to be, for you to lash out that way. So here is what I think. Your mother gave you to Vasey,” said Marian. “She had withheld a mother's love from you always, and deserted you after your father's death. She chose Vasey to take you on. I pray to God that she was ignorant of what would occur in his household.”

“She did not know,” Guy said, his voice raw. “My mother could not have known.” Marian felt it more likely that the abbess had known full well what Vasey had in mind. He was not known for subtlety, after all.

“You were small, defenseless. You were abused, overpowered, and forced to submit to acts that you neither welcomed nor understood.” Marian voice was as dry and impersonal as she could make it. “Vasey played on your fears and weaknesses, alternating promises of rank and title and threats that he would tell your mother of your sins.”

Guy met her gaze, his eyes huge and dark. “Yes,” he said, his brow furrowed. “How did you know?”

“Because Vasey was a sadist,” Marian explained. “The more pain, the better. So your boyhood was awful. But you lived through it. You grew into a man, big and strong. You attacked those who meant to force you, and they stopped trying.”

“Yes.” Guy’s voice was very quiet.

“Look at me, Guy.” Marian raised her chin. “I know you well, and I know how you think. There is only one possible ending to this tale of the past. I know what you did, what you think I will not forgive you for.”

Guy closed his eyes. “I have committed so many crimes, Marian.”

“But were these crimes?” Marian asked softly. “Or was it justice?”

Guy raised his head and met her gaze. "I killed them all, Marian. With my own hands, in cold blood.”

She met his gaze, unflinching. “Good.”

“That was my apprenticeship in becoming an assassin,” said Guy. “I hunted them, running them to ground all over England. It impressed Vasey, my drive and determination. I earned his respect by murdering his own knights, down to the very last guilty man.” He met Marian's gaze. “That is what I did, Marian, and that is what I am.”

“It is part of what you were,” Marian said, “but it does not define who you are, or what you will become.”

“I am free of it all, now. I found a kind of peace, knowing that all who harmed me met their end.”

“It is a good thing,” Marian said softly. “Or they would have wound up on the end of of the Nightwatchman's sword.”

"But the Nightwatchman was no killer,” said Guy. “I am glad that my hands are stained with blood, not yours.” He pulled her in close and ran his hands through her hair. “I wish to keep you safe in this world, protect you. You need not fight any more.”

“But what if I wish to protect you?” she asked. “You have had to look after yourself for such a long time. Will you let me look after you?”

He smiled. “We will look after each other then.”

“Always.” Marian pulled Guy close and they held tightly to each other.


	13. Complications

Guy glared at his reflection in the hammered bronze mirror. He did not look like a bridegroom on his wedding day. He looked more like a brawling drunk from a dockside tavern. His hair was a tangled, overly long mess, and the cuts near his lip and next to his eye were scabbed over. The bruising under one eye did not improve matters.

A knock sounded at the door. Allan popped his head in. “We have to leave for the church in half an hour.”

Frustrated, Guy ran his hand through his hair and walked over to Allan. “I am ready now. There is no point waiting.” He pulled on his gloves.

Allan raised his eyebrows. “You're going like that?”

Guy looked down at his leathers. “What?”

“You're not going to pretty it up a bit for your own wedding?”

“I prettied myself up last time and it didn't help any,” Guy snapped.

Allan held up a warning hand. “Hey, now. Don't come on all hostile with me.”

Guy grabbed his sword belt and strapped it on. “Let's go.”

“But haven't you got anything else to wear?” Allan asked. He gestured at his own velvet tunic and tight breeches. “It wouldn't hurt to make an effort.”

“My hair is too long, Hood smashed up my face, and I don't know what else to wear.”

“Where's your trunk?” asked Allan. Guy gestured with a gloved hand.

Allan knelt down and rummaged through it. “Black leather, black leather, black leather.” He pulled out a white linen shirt. “Well, this is better.”

“It goes under the coat,” explained Guy. “I don't wear it by itself.”

Alan handed the shirt to Guy and continued rummaging. “Well, that's the only thing that isn't black.” He looked at Guy. “You could wear my other doublet. It's blue, would look good on you.”

“I don't like colors,” Guy replied.

“What's Marian wearing?” Allan asked.

“I didn't ask.”

Allan rolled his eyes. “You really don't know a damn thing about women, do you?”

“Allan,” Guy said warningly. “It doesn’t matter what she wears. It doesn’t matter what I wear. I just want this wedding over and done.”

xxxx

Marian fastened the last silver clasp on her bodice and looked down at her dress. The green velvet suited her; she swung her hips and watched the skirts twirl around her ankles. There was a knock on the outside door. Marian walked from her bedroom through the sitting room. “You promised you would be on time! I shall be late for my own wedding, Agnes!” Marian opened the door and a tall, thin nun stood before her. "I’m sorry, I thought you were my friend,” Marian apologized.

"I am Sister Cecilia,” the nun replied. She looked down the hall, craning her neck to see if anyone was coming.

"Come in," asked Marian, and ushered the nun inside the room. "You seem nervous. Is something wrong?"

Cecilia licked her lips and turned away. "I think I should not have come."

Marian touched her shoulder. "Please, tell me what has happened."

The nun looked up at her. "It is a grave sin to renounce one's vows to God. Agnes must be punished; it is God’s will.”

Melt felt a feeling of foreboding. "I believe in a God of forgiveness and understanding. If Agnes has changed her mind, God will understand. She has not yet taken her final vows."

"The abbess is not so forgiving," the nun explained. "She says that justice must be done, and Agnes must pay for her disobedience."

"What will the abbess do to Agnes?" asked Marian.

"If God favors her, she will survive,” Cecilia said, her voice flat.

The hairs on the back of Marian’s neck rose. "The abbess cannot harm her. She must answer to the bishop and the pope."

"Within the bounds of this abbey, the abbess reigns," said the nun. “Those of us who live under her rule are obliged to obey. But Agnes begged me to send you word. I have done what she asked.”

“Where is she?” asked Marian.

Cecilia shook her head. “I have done all I can.”

Marian grabbed her arm. “Please.”

The nun shrugged off her hold. “She is in the punishment cell.” Cecilia opened the door and left the room.

Marian ran into her bedroom, grabbed a cloak from her clothes chest, and twisted up her hair with the hairpin dagger.

xxxx

“Come to my room for the doublet,” Allan advised. Guy followed him down the hallway of the men's quarters. “We'll get Much to cut your hair.”

Guy stopped short. “I'm not letting your idiot friend cut my hair.”

“You look like you have a cat on your head, and Marian told you it was too long,” argued Allan. “Your woman tells you that you need your hair cut, you cut it.”

“Where'd you learn so much about women?” asked Guy.

“My wife,” Allan replied.

Guy raised his eyebrows. “You were married?”

“My wife was the prettiest woman in Rochdale. Lovely red hair all the way down to her waist, lush arse, best cook in the world, and patient as the day was long. I didn't deserve her.”

“What happened to her?" asked Guy.

“I put a babe in her belly, and they both died,” Allan said flatly. “Complications, midwife said.”

“I'm sorry,” said Guy, and put his hand on Allan's shoulder.

Allan shrugged it off and met Guy's eyes. “We're not friends, you and me. I'm here because you pay me to be here. That’s all.” He pushed open the door to his room.

Much was dabbing at Robin's swollen cheek with a rag. He turned to see who was coming in and raised his eyebrows. “What's he doing here? Gisborne's the one who did this to my master.”

Allan laughed. “Look at Guy's face. Robin got a few good licks in himself.” Guy looked in Hood’s eyes, and saw all the animosity he felt reflected right back.

Allan opened his clothes chest. He pulled out a blue velvet doublet and tossed it at Guy. “I won that off a man a bit bigger than you; it should fit. Put the shirt on and see how it looks.”

Guy pulled off his gloves, unbuckled his jacket and took off his undershirt. He carefully lifted his arms to put on the white linen shirt, gingerly sliding it over his injured shoulder. Then he slid his sleeves into the blue velvet doublet and laced up the front.

Allan nodded approvingly. “That shines you up a bit.” He tilted his head. “You really need to fix the hair though.”

“And shave,” Much interjected. “Your face is at that bad stage between scruff and beard.” He wrinkled his nose. “But the hair is particularly awful.”

“And that's coming from a man never takes his hat off,” said Allan.

“Much, Allan said that you could cut my hair,” Guy said stiffly.

“Why should I do anything nice for you?” asked Much. “You're an awful person, and you're marrying Marian. She deserves better.”

“Well, she doesn’t want better. She’s settling for me, and I am grateful for it,” said Guy. “But Allan is right; I should try to please her today of all days.”

“And tonight she gets to please you!” Allan laughed and slapped his knee.

“Do not make coarse jokes at Marian’s expense,” Robin said sharply.

“I can defend my wife’s honor myself,” Guy retorted. “Keep to your own business.”

Allan looked at Guy and rubbed his chin. “We’re running short on time, Much. Can you please just cut my lord’s hair? He’ll pay you.”

“There isn't enough money in the world to make me do that man a favor,” said Much.

“Just cut his hair, Much,” said Robin. “Marian already has to look at his ugly face. At least give her a decent view from behind.”

Guy rose, and Allan put his hand on his shoulder. Guy winced with pain. “Sorry, sorry,” said Allan. “Look, you can keep your pride, and look like a guttersnipe, or suck it up and please your bride.” Allan whispered in his ear. “Not a bad thing to have her in a good mood, when you have to bed her later in front of the whole town.”

“Fine,” Guy said flatly. Much moved a chair to the middle of the floor, facing the window. He gestured for Guy to sit. Guy took off the doublet and shirt and sat bare-chested in the chair.

Much rummaged in a leather bag and came up with a wooden comb and a large pair of shears. “Look straight ahead,” he instructed, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t holding shears. “Otherwise it’ll come out all crooked.”

Guy obeyed, and listened to the sounds of the snipping shears. Locks of hair fell down onto the floor and landed on his lap.

Much stepped in front of him and smoothed his bangs down with one hand. They were long enough to rest on the bridge of his nose. “You look like a sheep dog Robin had as a lad.”

Robin laughed. “Humphrey!”

Much smiled. “That's the one.” He stared at Guy's face. “Now, don't move.” The shears moved across his forehead, cutting his bangs.

A knock sounded at the door and Robin rose. “Yes?” A hooded monk stepped forward and handed Robin a folded note.

“Something wrong?” asked Much, turning to his friend.

“No, nothing. Just an assignation with a lovely lady.” Robin smiled at the monk. “Thank you for this, brother.”

“Only Robin could find a woman to romance in a nunnery,” commented Much.

Allan smirked. “No, he’s not the only one.”

Much straightened up the bangs, and Allan handed Guy a mirror. He looked in it intently. His bangs were parted in the middle, and swept back on each side of his face. “It's not bad.” Guy turned to face Hood. Robin was halfway out the door, following the monk.“Did Marian invite you to the wedding, Locksley?”

“She did not,” Robin replied.

“I would be honored if you would attend,” said Guy. “We must come to an accord, for Marian’s sake if nothing else.”

Robin smiled. “Oh, I think that we will soon have little to fight over.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Xxxx

“Why is Guy in there?” Marian hissed.

“Much cut his hair,” Robin explained. “Allan’s idea.”

“Well, good. It was too long.” Marian turned to look at Robin. “Do you have your bow?”

He looked surprised. “Do I need it?”

Marian raised her eyebrows. “Yes!”

Robin rolled his eyes. “Fine. Wait here.” He opened the doorway a crack, and slowly pulled out his bow and quiver. He closed the door again. Marian began to walk quickly down the hall. “Wait up!"

“We have no time to waste,” Marian turned up a stairway. “We need to get as close to the roof as we can.”

Robin grabbed her arm. “What is going on?”

“We have to save Agnes,” she explained, and slipped out of his grip.

“Who exactly is Agnes?” Robin asked.

“My friend!” Marian exclaimed. “Look, I can’t waste time on explanations. We need to save Agnes, and then I need to get to the church on time.” She ran up the stairs.

“You’re still marrying Gisborne?” Robin called after her.

“Of course I am,” she said. “King’s orders, remember? And I love him. Get it through your thick head.”

“If he's so wonderful, why don't you ask him to help you save your friend?”

“Because I don’t want him anywhere near the nunnery!” she called, breathless.

“I thought Allan was the one with a certain fondness for nuns,” said Robin. They reached the top level, and turned up a half flight of stairs into an attic.

“Guy doesn’t have a fondness for nuns,” explained Marian. “Just for me.”

“Well, so do I,” said Robin. “And for a lot longer, too.”

“Can you try to be a gracious loser?” asked Marian. “You still whine like you did when you were nine and I kept beating you at knucklebones.”

“You cheated!” Robin argued. “I know you did, and you would never admit it.”

“Will you please grow up?” They were bent nearly in half, walking through the cramped attic. Marian pushed aside barrels and crates until they reached a dead end.

“Hey, is this Agnes the nun we’re saving? Allan’s Agnes?” Robin asked.

“Yes, Allan’s Agnes. The abbess is a little put out that she wants to be released from her vows.” Marian backtracked until they reached a high window. “Help me move that crate,” she instructed.

“A little put out, is she?” Robin and Marian slid the crate under the window.

“Apparently, she’s power hungry, sadistic and has an exceedingly short temper,” Marian explained.

“Sure she’s not related to Gisborne?” Robin joked. Marian shot him an angry look. “Just kidding.”

Marian sighed. “We need to get out that window, then onto the roof, and go left until we reach the nunnery.”

“What’ll we do when we get there?” Robin asked.

“I’ll think of a plan by then,” said Marian. She pulled off the monk’s robe and tossed it aside. She smoothed down the front of the green velvet dress.

“Pretty frock,” Robin said approvingly. "Green suits you."

“Thanks,” Marian said crisply.

Robin put his hands on her waist. “How about a little kiss for luck?”

Marian leaned in towards him. Robin closed his eyes, and she felt his breath on her skin. Chastely, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m getting married today,” she said gently.

Marian stepped out of his hands and leapt up on the balls of her feet. She launched herself in the air and landed on top of the crate. Arching her arms high over her head, she popped open the window and slipped outside.

xxxx

“Bonchurch was to be mine!” Much said insistently.

“Enough, Much!” Allan said.

“It is true,” said Much. “The lodge at Bonchurch was to be mine." He gnawed on his lip. “I wished to marry, and make a home there with my bride. The king had no right to give it to Marian!”

“Ask Marian if you may be her tenant,” Guy advised. “We have no need of the property for our own use; we will live at Knighton.”

“I have no way to make a living,” Much protested. “I could not pay Lady Marian a rent for the property.”

“She is a very clever woman, and will think of some way for you to make a living at Bonchurch,” said Guy.

“Enough yapping,” said Allan. “Marian is going to think you have left her at the altar.”

Guy stood up abruptly. He turned to Much. “Come to the wedding. It would please Marian to have her friends there.”

Much nodded. “I will come. So, should I ask her about Bonchurch at the wedding feast, or would that be too forward?”

Guy laughed. “I would ask her after she's had some honey wine.” He grabbed his coat and pulled it over the doublet.

Much pulled on his sword belt and rainbow poncho and rose. The three men left the room and walked down the hallway. “Got the ring?” asked Allan.

Guy patted his coat and turned back. “It must have fallen out in the room.”

Allan pulled it out of his pocket and held it up. "That's what you think.”

Guy snatched it from his fingers. “I am not amused.”

Allan laughed. “Once a thief, always a thief.”

“What is on the menu for the wedding feast?” asked Much. He rubbed his hands. “I hope it will have many courses. And venison! And roasted hens! And pears poached in wine!”

They walked out into the courtyard. A carriage awaited them, gaily decorated with flowers. A large crest of wheat sheaves and lilies was emblazoned on the side. “Is that for us?” asked Allan.

“That is for the bride,” Guy replied with a frown. “Marian was supposed to leave before me. I am not supposed to see her until she enters the church.” He turned to Allan. “She was extremely specific about the timetable today.”

“Perhaps she is still doing her hair or fussing with her dress,” Allan suggested.

Across the courtyard, a window opened. A head popped out, then a torso, then a long, full skirt. Guy watched as the woman swung with her hands from the ledge onto the low hanging slates of the roof. "Marian," he whispered.

“I think she's changed her mind about the wedding,” Allan commented.

Guy's heart was in his throat. “I was so sure that she wanted to wed this time.”

“You forced her hand, mate,” said Allan. “She's not the kind to take that lightly.”

Marian leaned down and stuck her arms through the window. “What is she doing?” asked Guy.

They watched her pull Hood out of the window. Robin nimbly slipped up on the roof and helped Marian to her feet. Robin took her hand and they ran along a thin spine of stone across the rooftop, Marian holding her long train up.

Allan turned to look at Guy. “Look. Don’t take it hard. Plenty of fish in the sea.”

Guy watched as they leaped onto the flat roof of the nunnery. Marian immediately dropped Hood’s hand and reached behind her. He saw the glint of silver as she drew a sword from a scabbard on her back.

“Arm yourselves,” Guy commanded, and drew his sword. “Marian is in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble would Marian have at the nunnery?” asked Much.

Allan drew in his breath. “Agnes.” He pulled out his sword, his face taut. The men rushed as one across the courtyard.


	14. Ties That Bind

Marian opened the door and peered around it. The corridor was empty. She gestured for Robin to follow her. They walked down the hallway, peering through archways and opening doors to find nothing and no one. “We need to find the punishment cell,” said Marian.

The nuns sang, their sweet high voices singing praises to God. “They must all be in the chapel for afternoon prayers,” said Robin.

Marian turned to look at him. “Now is the moment. We must find Agnes while attention is focused elsewhere.”

“The punishment cell could be in the basement,” he said. “There may be a dungeon there.”

“You go downstairs, and I will search this floor,” Marian said. She looked at him seriously. “We must split up. Time is short.”

Robin grabbed her hand. “I do not wish to leave you alone.”

She smiled. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Just be careful,” Robin said, his voice low. “Wait until I return to take action, even if you find Agnes.”

Marian nodded, and they parted ways at the staircase. He continued down, and she walked down the hall. She found a heavily padlocked door, but when she touched it, it swung open. On the far wall there was a set of chains. The floor and walls were wet, as if recently sluiced with water.

Marian continued down the staircase and found that she had reached the chapel. She ducked behind a tall marble column and peered around it. Marian could see the abbess seated in an ornate, heavily carved chair with a high back. The nuns kneeled before her, arranged in tidy rows, their hands clasped as they sang.

The song ended and the abbess rose to her feet. “Our calling requires determination, steadfastness, and selflessness. Only through denying the desires of the flesh and turning wholly to God can we reach a state of purity, the state to which we all owe our Lord Jesus Christ, who sacrificed his life to free us of our sins. At this time in the afternoon, we turn our thoughts to the crucifixion of our Lord.” She stared at the nuns who served her, her gaze scanning each face.

The abbess gestured with one hand, and two tall nuns pushed forward a crucifix on a low wheeled platform. A limp, nude body hung on the arms of the cross, bound at wrists and ankles to the wood. Agnes's head hung forward, her face hidden by the fall of her long blonde hair. “We must model ourselves on Christ almighty in all ways,” the abbess continued. “When we fail to attain that goal, we must follow in his footsteps and use Christ’s suffering, his anguish as our model.”

The nuns pushed the crucifix in front of the abbess. Her face was impassive as she looked up at the bound figure. The abbess lifted Agnes’ chin with one hand and slapped her face hard. Agnes stirred, raised her head and blinked.

“Agnes, do you admit that you have done wrong and submit to the punishment that is demanded by our Lord Jesus?” asked the Abbess. She opened the lid on a wooden box next to the crucifix, and lifted out something large and brown, a loosely woven circle.

“Do not be proud, Agnes!” Marian saw that the nun who spoke was one who had come to her rooms earlier. “Beg forgiveness, I beseech you.”

“I have done nothing wrong.” Agnes' voice rang clearly through the chapel. “I have no regrets about the way I have lived my life. I will not bow down, and I will not submit. Not to God, not to man, and certainly not to you.”

The abbess frowned. “Then you must be shown the error of your ways.”

Agnes lifted her head and gazed down at the abbess with haughty splendor. “I would rather die a free woman than live under the thumb of a cruel bitch, drunk with power and riddled with madness.”

Agnes’ head rocked from the punch the abbess landed on her jaw. The sound of the blow rang through the room. The abbess shoved the circlet on Agnes's head. Agnes opened her mouth and screamed, a shrill sound that made Marian shiver. She watched blood run down Agnes’ face, staining her blonde hair with red.

“A crown of thorns,” the abbess said, and smiled.

Marian ran across the floor, her footsteps echoing on the marble. “This is not the work of God,” she yelled. “How can you all sit here like sheep and let this happen?” The nuns did not move; they looked down at the floor, heads bowed in prayer.

Agnes raised her head. “Marian,” she said, and Marian saw the tears fall from her eyes. “I knew you would save me.”

In one smooth motion, the abbess pulled a long, many tailed whip from the wooden box. “As our Lord suffered the pain of the scourge, so shall you.” She raised the whip high and lashed it across Agnes' legs. The skin opened and blood began to run down. Agnes screamed in agony.

Marian reached the abbess and pressed her sword to her neck. “Drop that weapon or you will lose your head,” Marian announced in a calm, cool voice.

The abbess laughed and elbowed her in the stomach. Marian stumbled backwards and the abbess raised the scourge and lashed across Marian's chest. The cloak she wore shredded, and Marian saw that the tips of the each whip were edged with steel. She felt blood trickle down her chest. “Ah, I see it is the whore of Babylon,” said the abbess.

Marian stepped forward and raised her sword. “I do not wish to harm you, Mother. I would not stain my hands with the same blood that will run through my children's veins.”

The abbess smiled. “Do you think I fear death? I will be reunited with our Lord Christ, and sit at his right hand. I have purified so many souls, and laid them at his feet.” She raised the lash. “Even a slut like you may be made worthy of his kingdom. Through cleansing blood, our sins may be washed clean.”

Marian thrust the sword into the abbess' leg. She screamed in pain and crumpled on top of Marian. Marian tried to wriggle free, but the abbess grabbed her hair in both hands and pulled. Marian punched her in the face as hard as she could. Her reliquary ring shattered against the abbess' cheekbone, the glass slicing Marian's hand and the abbess's skin. The gold casing broke apart, and the lid flew across the room, along with the white flash of Saint Crispin's bone.

The abbess rolled away from her, and Marian rose to her feet. The abbess jerked on the floor, one hand pressed to the wound in her face, the other grasping at the sword in her leg. Marian ran over and pulled the sword from the abbess' leg. She screamed, her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed, unconscious.

Marian reached down and picked up the shattered remnants of her ring. She shook off the shards of broken glass and tucked the broken lid into her cloak pocket. She bent to pick up the shard of Saints Crispin's bone. It felt wrong in her hand; not heavy enough, and too smooth. She looked closely at it and found that she held a tube, covered completely in thick white wax.

Marian heard Agnes cry out in pain. She quickly stuffed the tube in her cloak's pocket and turned to see Allan and Guy gently lifting the crown of thorns from Agnes' head. Marian ran to their side. The two men moved in unison, very slowly and carefully freeing the girl of her painful burden. Guy threw it aside as Allan pulled Agnes into his arms. He threw his cloak over her and held her like a child. “It’s all over, my lovely. You're safe now,” he whispered. She grabbed his doublet in both hands and sobbed.

Guy knelt down next to her. “Who did this to you, Agnes?”

She pointed a finger at the abbess, who lay on the floor in a pool of blood. Guy rose, his sword in hand. Marian grabbed his arm. “Guy, you cannot.”

He looked down at her, his face furious. “Marian, this is justice.”

“You cannot kill a nun in the house of God. I will not permit it.” She pulled on his arm. “We must leave. Allan will care for Agnes; we will come back to them after the wedding.”

“I am not going to leave our friends,” Guy said angrily. “And neither would you.” He pulled up her chin with one hand and looked in her eyes. “Marian, I have laid my soul bare to the bone for love of you, and I will have the same of you in return.” She looked away, and he forced her to meet his eyes. “You are my wife,” he said simply. “All else is a formality. You will obey me, and you will tell me the truth of why you came here with Hood, and what else you are so eager to keep from me.”

“I do not wish you to be hurt any further,” Marian said softly.

He looked down at her, his face impassive. “Then cease lying to me.”

Marian took his hand and they walked over to the still figure of the abbess. Marian knelt down and turned the nun’s face towards Guy. He frowned, puzzled. Marian pulled off the wimple and the veil from her head. A tumult of dark blonde hair spilled over the abbess’ shoulders, in thick waves.

The color drained from Guy’s face. “Mother.”

Marian looked up at him. “Guy, I am so very sorry.”

Guy turned and looked at Agnes, crying in Allan’s arms, and back to the woman who had birthed him. “My mother has caused all of this pain.” He gently placed his hand on her cheek, and wiped away a smear of her blood. “My own mother.”

“There is still a chance to make your peace with her.”

Guy smoothed his mother’s hair away from her face. “Marian, leave us.”

Marian nodded and walked away. Robin ran into the chapel, his bow at the ready. “Marian, I found the dungeon.” His face was ashen, his eyes wide. “Oh, God.” He turned on his heel and retched, vomit splattering on the floor.

Marian patted his shoulders. “Oh, Robin.”

Robin wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Marian, there are cells down there filled with bodies.” He met her eyes, and his were full of tears. “The abbess is a madwoman, and no one knew. No one knew there were innocent women who needed to be rescued.”

“You could not have saved them,” Marian said gently. “Robin, you cannot save everyone.”

“Had I known,” Robin said, and his voice broke. “I found a girl down there, not twelve years old. She was still warm when I touched her. If we had run faster, if I had been quicker…” Marian pulled him close in a hug, and Robin buried his face in her shoulder and cried.

xxxx

Guy knelt next to his mother. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her eyes bright. “Hello, Father. I have missed you.”

“It is Guy, Mother,” he said gently. “Your son.”

The abbess frowned. “I did not wish to see you again.”

“But why? I mourned you, I missed you,” he explained, his brow furrowed.

“You are still too soft, boy. Always clinging, always watching. Did Vasey teach you nothing?”

He swallowed hard. “I learned much at Vasey's knee, mother.”

“But here you are, a man grown and still weak,” she said, her voice harsh. “Tears in your eyes and need in your voice, just like a child. Always grasping, always wanting. You are still a weakling, just like your father.”

“You are wrong,” Guy said, his voice tight. “I am a knight, with wealth and property. My son will be an earl; our lineage will continue, with pride and glory.”

“And have you recovered Warwick?” his mother asked. “Do you claim that title, live in your father's castle, and tend to the thousand of acres that your father held before he lost it all?”

“I have not yet restored the title, but I have great hopes, and I have earned the trust of the king.”

“Did you earn it in Richard’s bed?” asked the abbess. “Serving him as a woman does, as so many others have done?”

Guy's face burned. “Mother, you should not speak of such things.”

“Is that how you earned your knighthood, your lands?” she asked.

“I earned all I have through the work of my two hands,” he said, his voice passionate. “I was left with nothing and I have gained so much. Mother!”

“By murder and buggery, they say,” said the abbess. “Look me in the eyes and deny it, my son. Look me in the eyes and tell me that your soul is clean, that you are an innocent and good man.” Her voice dripped with acid, her eyes sharp.

“Mother, please. Let us speak of more pleasant things.” Guy reached out and took her hand.

She snatched her hand from his grasp. “Do not touch me with your filthy hands. Just like your father, always touching, always grasping.” She glared at him, her eyes hostile. “You were born of sin. I tried to beat it out of you; I taught you to kneel and seek forgiveness for the blackness of your soul. But you were born evil, born wrong. I knew the minute I laid eyes on you that the devil lived inside your soul.”

Guy looked away, his jaw tight. “Mother, stop. I know you do not mean it when you speak this way.”

“Every time I see you, all I can think of is sin. Crispin staring after me, and always yearning, touching.” She shuddered. “He will burn forever, for his disgusting lust.”

“Mother, Father was your husband,” said Guy patiently. “You were joined in holy wedlock. There was no sin between you.”

“I was already wed to Christ,” said the abbess. “He made a cuckold of God, and God was forced to punish him.”

“Father made grave mistakes and he paid for them with his life,” said Guy. “It was not God’s will that forced him to treason and execution; it was his own folly.”

“Crispin was so stupid and naïve. He trusted me until the moment they struck off his head.” The abbess shrugged. “I tried accidents; I poisoned his food; I hired a man to kill him, and Crispin killed him instead. The only way to free myself of my own father’s trap was to have the king do God’s work.” She smiled. “God must take the souls, you see. We must be cleansed in blood, as Christ was, and only then can we reach his side.”

“You killed my father?” Guy yelled, his hands tightly fisted. “You accused my father of treason because you loved God more than your husband? I was to be the Earl of Warwick, and instead you chose to make me a pawn for those bigger and stronger? All for love of your God?” His voice rose to a roar.

“What are any of us, compared to God?” she said. “What are we, compared to the beauty of His works?” She smiled, her face radiant. “We are but dust. We must do His will in all things.”

Guy’s face crumpled. “Was it His will to destroy my life? His will to leave me with nothing? God’s will to make my life a living hell?” His voice rose, his cries of pain raw. “It was yours! Your will, and yours alone!” Guy turned on his heel and walked away.

The abbess struggled to her feet and picked up Marian’s discarded sword. “You will pay for your heresy.” Robin raised his bow and shot her in the leg. She howled with pain and crumpled to the floor.

Marian raced after Guy and grabbed his wrist. He turned to her, his face etched with pain. “Leave me be, please. If you love me at all, let me alone now.” Marian loosened her grip and he turned and walked away, his head bowed.

Allan walked over, carrying Agnes. She was dressed in a long black habit. “We need to get Agnes fixed up and get down to the church before Sir Harold comes looking for you with the king’s soldiers at his back."

Marian looked into Agnes’ face. “I wish we had come earlier, Agnes. I am so sorry.”

“I’m fine,” Agnes explained, with a sweet smile. “Just a few cuts and scrapes. My legs got the worst of it.”

Allan leaned down and kissed Agnes' mouth. “Marian’s got the healer’s touch,” he said. “You go to her rooms and she’ll fix you up.” He very gently set down Agnes on her feet, and Marian put an arm around her friend's waist.

“Go pick out something pretty for the wedding,” Allan instructed Agnes. “I’m sure Marian has a dress that would look lovely on you. I’ll finish up a bit of business here, and we’ll see each other at the church.” He patted Agnes on the behind. “Now, get you both gone.”

Marian turned. “You’ll make sure Guy is there?”

Allan nodded. “I’ll round him up, get him to the church. Give it an hour.” He smiled at her. “Just give hGuy a bit of time alone.”

Marian walked Agnes slowly down the hall. Allan turned back and saw Robin standing over the abbess, his arms crossed. Allan came up behind him and put his hand on his shoulder. “I saw the dungeon, too,” Allan said softly. “I ran in there, saw the bodies, and pushed Guy back, told him it was empty.” He looked up at Robin, his face troubled. “The man can’t sleep as it is; wakes up screaming most nights. He doesn’t need any more demons in his head.”

Robin looked in Allan’s eyes. “This woman is Gisborne’s mother. No wonder he carries demons within him.”

Allan shook his head. “This bitch is no one’s mother.” The abbess stirred and began to rise. Allan dealt her a sharp punch to the jaw, and she passed out again.

“There must be justice for what has been done,” Robin said. "She cannot be permitted to harm anyone else the way she harmed these women.”

Allan pulled the knife from his belt. “Sometimes, there are dirty deeds must be done.”

“I have killed before,” said Robin, “and for less reason than this.”

“She tried to kill the woman that I will marry,” said Allan. His jaw tightened, his eyes hard as he glared down at the abbess. “And that’s more than cause enough to feel my blade.”

Robin raised his eyebrows. “Wait, Allan. You proposed to Agnes?”

Allan shrugged. “Yeah.”

Robin patted him on the shoulder. “That’s wonderful!”

“Well, she said no, but I’ll talk her around to the idea,” said Allan.

Robin laughed. “Well, if you’ve set your mind to it, the wedding’s as good as done.”

The sound of raised voices neared. Allan hastily shoved the abbess' body behind her chair, shielding it from view. He turned his head to see Sir Harold entering the room, followed by a band of soldiers. Behind him stood the bishop. “My Earl of Huntington,” the king's messenger said loudly, “pray tell me where I can find the Countess of Knighton and the Sheriff of Nottingham.”

Allan sheathed his knife, and he and Robin walked over to the king’s man. “My lady is in her chamber, changing her gown, and my lord is probably in the closest pub, getting pissed,” explained Allan. “You know, he’s a bit nervous about being leg shackled.”

“The wedding was to commence at four o’clock,” the bishop interjected. “The gentles of the town are waiting.” He raised his eyebrows. “Not to mention, I am waiting.”

Allan handed the bishop a fat purse. “Well, let me present you with a token of my great esteem for your office on this lovely nuptial day for my lord and lady.” Robin roared with laughter and Allan glared at him.

The bishop smiled. “I am honored to accept this generous offering to the church.”

Robin turned to Harold and pulled out a purse. The messenger raised his eyebrows. “I trust you are not attempting to bribe an an officer of the crown.”

“Not at all,” said Robin. “Merely sharing with you my great esteem on this lovely nuptial day of the woman I love and the miserable bastard she’s wedding.”

Harold weighed the bag in his hand and tucked it in his tunic. “You have until five o'clock. Then they’ll be dragged to the altar in chains.”

“Speaking of chains,” said Robin. “We have a rather colorful local situation. We’d be so pleased to put it in your hands.” He moved the chair aside, revealing the abbess passed out on the floor. “It seems the abbess has been having a bit of fun torturing and killing her charges. There are bodies downstairs in a dungeon, and there is a large plot behind the castle that appears to contain fresh graves.”

The bishop frowned. “The abbess confessed to this?”

Robin nodded. “Oh, yes. She seems to have quite enjoyed the process.”

“She also framed her husband for treason,” said Allan. “I caught that bit earlier. Her husband was Warwick; their son is the sheriff of Nottingham.”

The bishop cast a glare at the abbess. “She will be thoroughly questioned regarding these allegations and tried before the ecclesiastical court. Secure her in her chambers until my personal guard arrives.”

“Do as the bishop commands,” Sir Harold instructed his guards. They placed the abbess in shackles and dragged her away. He turned to Robin. “My lord, you will be at the church in one hour with the sheriff and countess or you will not enjoy the consequences.”

“We will be there.” Robin smiled widely. “This is a wedding no one will want to miss.”


	15. Joined

Chapter Fifteen- Joined

Marian stood at the church door, waiting. Her long veil whipped in the breeze, and Agnes lifted one hand to grab it. She gently smoothed it down around Marian's elbows and adjusted the wreath of flowers that held it in place.

“By the time Guy arrives, I will look a mess,” said Marian.

Agnes raised an eyebrow. “You look beautiful.”

Marian looked down at her dress, a deep blue silk. The corset fastened with small silver buckles, and silver embroidery decorated the sleeves and trailed along the sweeping hem of the skirt. “It is a lovely dress.”

“It is a lovely dress for a lovely bride.” Agnes smiled and winced. “Marian, I must sit.”

Marian took her arm and they walked through the churchyard. Wedding guests milled around and smiled as Marian passed. A stone bench sat at an angle, facing the road through the town. Agnes gingerly sat down. Marian lifted her friend's long velvet skirts and looked at her bandaged legs. “You are not bleeding through.”

Agnes smoothed down her skirts. “No, the cuts just sting.” She smiled at her friend. “I fear I will not dance at your wedding.”

Marian patted Agnes' arm. “I am just glad that you are here at all, Agnes.”

Agnes kissed Marian’s cheek. “And I tell you again: I am fine.” She gently touched her forehead. “Can you see the scratches on my face?”

Marian shook her head. “They are hidden under your bangs.” She grinned. “Allan will find you lovely, as always.”

Agnes blushed, her face turning deep crimson. “I do not wish Allan to think I am pretty.”

Marian smirked. “If you say so.”

Her friend slapped her arm, and Marian laughed. “It is bad luck to hit the bride.”

“The bride needs to keep her nose out of it,” said Agnes.

From a distance, they heard the sound of loud laughter and music. Marian and Agnes watched a small and lively parade merrily winding down the hill. At the front was Much, strumming on a lute, accompanied by two minstrels on drum and recorder. Allan, Robin and Guy walked behind.

Marian sighed. “Ah, here is Guy.” The tension dissolved from her shoulders.

“Your worries were for nothing. The way Guy looks at you, there's no doubt of his feelings," said Agnes.

Behind the little band marched Sir Harold and the King's soldiers, their armor shining in the breeze. Two of the guardsmen carried pennons, and Richard's banners blew in the breeze. The bishop walked behind, dressed in richly embroidered robes.

“Come away now. Guy must not see you yet,” said Agnes. They stepped back behind a hedge and watched the party of men walk through the gates and into the churchyard to stand before the church doors, the bishop leading the way, followed by Robin and Much, then Sir Harold.

Allan pulled Guy aside and they stopped in front of the hedge. “Now, Guy, listen,” Allan said seriously. “Pay attention to the bishop. Remember your vows and do not drop the ring.”

“I will be very careful,” said Guy, his voice slurred.

Agnes turned to look at Marian, her eyebrows raised. “Drunk,” she mouthed. Marian shook her head no.

“Guy, if you drop the ring and lean over, you're going to fall on the ground,” Allan said seriously. “Do not lean over, you hear me? You are not sober enough to keep your feet.”

Agnes looked at Marian and mimed drinking. Marian sighed and nodded.

“I give you my word that I will not drop things or fall on my face again,” said Guy.

“When it is time for mass, walk very carefully down the aisle,” Allan instructed. “Do not trip and do not stop. You do not want to embarrass Marian.”

“I love Marian,” Guy said, his voice strong and sure.

“Yes, so you keep telling me,” said Allan. “Now it's time for you to go stand with the bishop.”

“Do I have the ring in my pocket?” Guy asked. “The ring is important. I have to put it on her finger.”

“I have the ring,” Allan confirmed. “When the priest asks for it, I will hand it to you.”

“Marian will like this ring better,” Guy slurred. “It will not make her punch me in the face like the other ring.”

“It's quality, that ruby,” Allan said, his voice gentle. “A pretty piece and I’m sure she’ll like it.”

“The other ring was Mother's,” Guy explained. “That's why Marian didn't marry me last time. It was the ring's fault. It is a bad ring. Evil.”

Allen nodded. “Of course, that makes perfect sense." He patted Guy on the back and took his elbow. “Time to get wed. Marian will be right along.” The two men walked over to the church door.

Marian turned to Agnes. “I must postpone this wedding. He is so drunk he will not remember anything that happened today.”

“If he wants to forget today, who can blame him?” asked Agnes. “Guy has learned some very painful truths.”

“This is not the way I imagined our marriage would begin.” Marian felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to see Robin, and smiled. “I am glad that you came.”

“Agnes,” called Allan. He gestured her to come over. Agnes patted Marian's arm and crossed the courtyard to join Allan. He whispered something in her ear, she laughed, and he met her lips with his.

“Much is here as well,” said Robin. “You know, he came to the abbey to help us in our fight, same as Allan and Guy.”

Marian's brow furrowed. “What happened?”

Robin laughed. “He got lost. We heard Agnes scream and took off running; Much fell behind and got separated. He turned down the wrong corridor and wound up in the kitchen.”

Marian laughed. “He did not!”

“I swear to you, Much did. He popped his head out of the kitchen as we were leaving, and he had gooseberry jam all over his face.”

“Some people never change,” said Marian.

Robin’s eyes went serious. “You've changed. I can't believe how strong you have become, how brave.”

Marian shook her head. “I am the same person I have always been.”

Robin twisted his fingers in her veil. “Marian, I never dreamed that you would marry another man. I always knew that we would be together. I never doubted it.”

“Dreams of childhood often fade,” Marian said, and freed her veil from his grip. “That is what growing up is, Robin.”

“I have a fast horse nearby,” Robin said, and took her hand. “It's not too late to make a break. Please, I am begging you not to marry Gisborne.”

“I'm sorry, but I will marry him,” Marian said simply.

“But I have loved you for so long, Marian,” Robin said. “I do not know how to stop.”

Much took his arm. “Robin, you must let her go now. She has made her choice.”

“I cannot,” Robin whispered.

“You must,” Much said, and pulled Robin away.

Marian broke free and walked through the churchyard. Guy's arms were crossed across his chest and his eyes were restless, scanning through the crowd. He wore a white linen shirt, loose over his black leather pants. His hair was wet, and strands of it curled over his forehead. Marian saw the curve of the scar over his right eye, the bruises and scabs on his face. Most of all, she saw the beatific smile that lit up his face as he saw her.

Guy left the bishop's side and walked up to her. The guests murmured as he lifted the veil away from her face. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He held onto her shoulders and kissed her deeply.

Guy tasted very strongly of mead, and one hand trailed down the front of her gown to cup her breast. She pulled away, and he looked down at her, his face puzzled. “We must wed now,” Marian reminded him. “The bishop is waiting.”

“I love you,” he said.

She smiled up at him. “Guy, I love you so very much.”

“One more kiss,” he said breathlessly, and pulled her to him. His tongue moved in her mouth, insistent, passionate.

Strong hands pushed them apart. “The bishop is waiting,” Allan said briskly. He pulled Marian's veil down, took her arm and steered her to the church door. Agnes followed, one hand holding a wooden box, the other on Guy's back, gently guiding him forward.

The bishop cleared his throat. “Are you ready to begin this much delayed ceremony?”

“They are,” Allan said firmly. He took Agnes' hand and they stepped back.

“Sir Guy of Gisborne and Marian, Countess of Knighton, have made clear their intention to be joined as man and wife. If any gathered here know of an impediment to the marriage, it is their duty to our Lord God to speak now.” The bishop moved his head, his eyes searching the faces of the crowd. Marian turned her head. Robin tilted his head, smiled sadly, and blew her a kiss. She smiled and looked back at the priest.

The bishop turned to Guy. “Do you, Sir Guy of Gisborne, take this woman to be your wife?"

Guy looked into Marian's eyes. “Yes,” he said.

“Do you, Marian of Knighton, take this man to be your husband?”

“Yes,” Marian replied.

“The bride may present the groom with her dowry.”

Marian turned to Agnes and took a carved box from her hands. Marian handed it to Guy. “With this gold and silver I wed you, with my body I will worship you, and with my dowry I endow you.”

“The groom may present the bride with the ring,” said the priest.

Guy turned to Allan and handed him the dowry box. His friend placed Marian's ring on Guy's palm. “With this ring I wed you, with my body I will worship you, and with this dowry I endow you,” Guy said, very slowly and carefully. Guy slid the heavy ring onto her finger.

“In the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, I affirm the marriage of the Countess of Knighton and the Sheriff of Nottingham. In celebration of this joyous union, we shall perform the nuptial mass.” The bishop strode into the church. Guy took Marian's hand in his and they followed, man and wife.

xxxx

Darkness had fallen. Torchbearers waited in a row outside the church as the wedding party stepped out into the churchyard. A man in an ornate blue and gold tabard bowed to Guy. “Congratulations on your nuptials,” he said. “You and your guests will be taken to the wedding feast at Montaillaut.”

Marian and Guy followed him to a waiting carriage and stepped inside. The carriage moved away, the horses hooves clattering on the stones, and Guy pulled Marian onto his lap. “You are mine,” he said.

“I am yours,” she agreed.

Guy's hands undid the buckles on her bodice, and he tugged it down. Her breasts bobbed free and he sucked her nipple into his mouth. His mouth moved to the other one, his hands lifting her skirts.

“In the carriage?” Marian asked breathlessly.

“I used all the restraint I had not taking you in the church,” he said raggedly.

Marian turned to face him and pulled open the lacings on his pants. She reared up on her knees and sank down on his lap, guiding his cock inside her.

His hands twisted in the frothy layers of her skirts. “My wife,” Guy whispered, and bit her neck.

“You are mine,” Marian said, and moved her mouth to his ear, biting his earlobe.

Guy hissed and his hands gripped her waist. He thrust upwards and she gasped with pleasure. Marian leaned forward and licked his ear. “Take me,” she whispered. “I am yours.” She moved with him, matching his movements. “I love the way you feel inside me." Her tongue trailed across his jaw.

Marian bit his neck and Guy cried out, his voice breaking. “Oh, keep talking."

“You belong to me. All of you. Your mouth.” Marian kissed him deeply. “Your hands. Your cock.” She clenched her internal muscles, tightening around him.

In the blink of an eye, Marian was flat on her back on the floor of the carriage. Guy thrust in and out of her furiously, the veins on his neck throbbing. He glared down at her, his eyes dark. “You are mine.”

“Yes,” she panted.

“You belong to me, body and soul.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Yes.”

His fingers found the swollen bud between her legs. “Come,” he commanded, and thrust deeply inside her. She obeyed.


	16. Montaillaut

The carriage slowed as they reached their destination. A handsome manor house of limestone was brightly lit with torches, and candlelight glowed at every window. The door was wide open, and the sound of laughter spilled out into the night.

The carriage door opened and a tall man in an elaborate cloth of silver coat bowed deeply to Marian. “My dear countess, I am Baron Montaillaut,” he said. “I welcome you to my humble home.” He extended his hand and helped her from the carriage. Guy stepped out and stood beside her. “My lord sheriff, welcome to Montaillaut.”

“You do us great courtesy,” Guy said.

“It is our pleasure to have you as our guests on your nuptial day.” The baron smiled widely. “I was very sorry that I could not attend the service; I could not leave my wife. Come; let me take you to meet her. She is most impatient to meet you.”

They followed the baron into the house. Servants hurried back and forth, carrying flowers and platters of food. The smell of tallow and lilies filled the air. They walked past a sweeping staircase that led up to a great landing, and into a small chamber filled with low furniture. A roaring fire kept the space warm and lit with an orange glow. A sleeping woman lay on a low couch, covered with an intricately woven shawl. A small white dog slept on her chest.

“Cecilia,” he said softly, and pressed his hand to her cheek.

She stirred. “Luc,” she said sleepily. “I had the most wonderful dream.”

“Our guests have arrived,” said the baron. “The Countess and her husband have arrived for their wedding feast.”

The woman opened her eyes and looked up. “Oh!” She struggled to sit up. The dog hurriedly hopped off the couch and run under a chair.

“Let me help you,” said the baron.

His lady swatted his hands away. “I am not an invalid, my love.” The baroness wrestled herself to her feet, her body swaying. The shawl slid away, revealing a hugely rounded figure. “I am with child,” she explained, rather unnecessarily.

Guy stared at her swollen belly, his eyes wide. “Just one?” Marian poked him in the ribs.

The Baroness laughed. “I think there are two in there.” She gestured with her hands. “Someone is kicking me over here,” she said, indicating a spot by her breast, “and someone is also kicking me here." She gestured down by her hip. “So unless the child is this wide,” she gestured, her hands far apart, "there's two in there.”

“Two sons,” the baron said proudly.

The baroness smiled at Marian. “They always think it's a son.” She took her husband's arm. “Let us go see if the hall is ready, my dear.”

Guy and Marian followed their hosts down the corridor. The baroness could barely walk, her feet shuffling. Guy leaned over and whispered to Marian. “It must be nearly her time, don't you think?”

“For her sake, I certainly hope so,” Marian replied.

Guy watched the baroness, his brow furrowing. “I had not thought what it would be like for you to carry my child. For your body to be taxed so.” He frowned, his eyes on the baroness' swollen ankles. "It would worry me, to see you so heavily burdened."

Marian looked up at him. “I am strong and healthy, Guy. When the time comes, my body will do what it was designed to do.”

They walked into a grand hall. The eaves were high above them, and a balcony on the second level was filled with musicians. The sound of their instruments tuning filled the space. A table on a dais was covered with shining white linen and glittering silver, and tall bouquets of lilies filled ornate vases around the room. The lower tables were also set with silver goblets and flowers. A row of servants dressed in blue were lined up along one wall, and they bowed low as their lord and lady walked by.

The baron walked to the dais and held out a chair for his wife. She sank down into her seat. The baron took Marian's hand and seated her at the baroness' right. The baron sat down to his wife's left, and Guy sat on Marian's right.

The guests began to file in. Robin was seated at the high table, along with the Bishop, near the towering silver salt holder. Sir Harold was seated below. Agnes and Allan came in the room, one arm loosely around her waist. Agnes spoke with the herald, pulled out of Allan's arms,and walked up to the dais. She curtsied low before the nobles.

“Agnes!” the baroness cried. She abruptly rose to her feet and rushed to her. Allan stood back, eyes wide, as the hugely pregnant woman crashed into Agnes. Allan threw his arms around them both to prevent them from toppling over. “My God!” The baroness cried, tears streaming down her face. “I thought never to see you again!”

Agnes smiled. “Well, I am here, Cecilia.”

The baroness pulled away and looked up at her. “You have grown so lovely.”

Agnes laughed and put her hand on Cecilia's stomach. “And you have grown so fat!”

“You are still a brat!” The baroness swatted the taller woman with one hand.

“That's what I like about her,” said Allan. The two women turned to face him.

The baroness looked him up and down. “I take it you are the reason my sister no longer wears a wimple?”

Allan grinned. “I fancy that I had something to do with it, yeah.”

Guy rose to his feet and walked over to the group. “My lady,” said Guy, “please allow me to introduce you to Sir Allan of Bonchurch.” He put his hand on Allan's shoulder. “Allan serves at my right hand, and is like a brother to me. He has a great future before him, and will be sure to attain even greater rank and wealth.”

"I hope to do so with your sister at my side, my lady," Allan explained.

“You are betrothed?” the baroness asked Agnes.

Agnes colored. “Allan proposed.”

“The betrothal is not yet arranged. Allan has asked for my consent on the match,” Guy explained. “As his liege lord, it is my right to give consent.” He smirked. “Or withhold it.”

“You do not consent?” asked the baroness, her eyebrows raised. “Why ever not?”

“Her dowry is forfeit to the Church,” said Guy with a shrug. “Agnes brings no land and no wealth with her.”

“Guy!” Allan interjected.

Guy pointed a finger at Allan. “Hold your tongue.”

“Our father was the Earl of Shrewsbury!” said the baroness. “We grew up on the finest estate in all England!”

Guy sneered. “And those lands, the title and the wealth all went to your cousin, when your father passed without male issue. Agnes has naught to offer but good breeding.”

The baroness turned her head and yelled. “Luc, we will provide Agnes with a generous dowry!”

The baron sipped his wine and nodded. “As you wish, my love.”

The baroness turned to Guy. “Do you now consent to the match, my lord?”

“Generosity is in the eye of the giver,” said Guy.

“Five hundred gold,” the baroness said.

“Your mother bore only daughters,” said Guy. He clicked his tongue softly. “Agnes may fail to provide an heir for Allan. He must have sons to carry on his name.”

“My sister will bear fine sons for her lord, as I will for mine,” Cecilia said heatedly.

Guy raised his eyebrows. “That is not a certainty, my lady.”

The baroness flushed. “Six hundred gold.”

Marian leaned over to the baron. "Should we perhaps ask them to move this conversation to a more private venue?”

The baron shook her head. “I would not interrupt my wife now for five thousand gold. She has built up a fine temper and I want no part of it.”

“Agnes has no dower chest, no furniture, no wardrobe," Guy continued. “She is dressed now in a gown cast off from my own wife. Is Allan to bear the cost of preparing her for marriage, as was the responsibility of your family?”

The baroness stamped her foot. “You are a rude, conniving bastard.”

Guy smiled. “Some would say so, yes.”

“Twelve hundred gold and not a penny more,” Cecilia spat. “That is the entirety of my own dowry! To a baron!”

Guy nodded. "That will do nicely, then. I am honored to bestow my blessing on their betrothal.”

Guy lifted Agnes' hand and kissed it, and she shot him a glare that would melt lead. “My lord,” she began, her voice sharp.

“Hush, Aggie.” Cecilia turned to Allan. “The marriage will take place here in Marseille.”

“They will be wed in Nottingham,” Guy countered. “We return to England without delay.”

“I wish to see my sister wed,” said Cecilia. “I will not be able to travel across the sea with two small babes.”

“Then let them be wed now, here in your hall.” Guy waved his hand. “It is all prepared for a celebration.”

Marian rose to her feet. “That is all very well,” she said tartly, “but Agnes has not consented to the match.”

Allan turned to Agnes. “What do you say, my love?” He grinned. “I promise, our life together will not be boring.”

Agnes looked away. “Allan, we cannot wed.”

He gripped her hand. “Why not?”

She leaned forward, her blonde hair trailing across his shoulder, and whispered in his ear. She spoke at some length, and he kept silent. His expression clouded, cleared, became murderous, and his mouth twisted. “You think I care about that?” Allan smiled down at her, his face sunny.

Agnes looked up at him. “All men care about that," she said, her voice soft.

“I am not all men,” Allan said, and kissed her. He stroked her cheek. “I'm better than the rest, my heart. It's Allan A Dale you're marrying.”

Agnes smiled. "Yes, I will wed you." He bent his head to kiss her.

Marian walked over to the bishop. “You will perform the ceremony,” she said, her voice low. “Tonight.”

The priest shook his head. “The banns must be spoken, and the formalities must be observed. There will be no marriage today, my lady, other than your own.”

Marian bowed her head and whispered in his ear. “The abbess flayed Agnes' skin down to the bone earlier today and tried to kill her in the name of God. A great wrong has been done Agnes by the Holy Church, and in His name you will make it right. You will perform the marriage, or the consequences will not be to your liking.”

He looked up at her, his eyes wide. “My lady, are you threatening me?”

She smiled down at him. “Oh, yes.”

“I am not scared of a mere woman,” he said, his voice dripping with disgust.

“Oh, do not be scared of me,” Marian replied. “Be scared of my husband.”

“No decent man would lay hands on a man of God,” said the bishop.

“My husband's mother is the abbess of Saint Victor's,” Marian explained. “I believe that you saw evidence of her temperament earlier today.” She tapped the bishop on the shoulder with one hand. “In many ways, my lord bishop, Guy takes after his mother.”

The bishop swallowed. “I am not intimidated by your godless threats,” he said angrily.

“Is something wrong, Marian?” Guy put his arm around his wife's waist and glared at the bishop. “I do not care for your tone of voice, my lord. Man of God or no, you will speak to my wife with respect or lose your tongue.” His hand gripped the hilt of his sword.

Marian laughed and kissed his cheek. “Guy, you overreact. The bishop has just agreed to marry Allan and Agnes. There is no ill will between us.” She tilted her head and met the bishop's eyes. “Have we come to an understanding, my lord bishop?”

“Indeed we have,” the priest replied, his eyes cold. “I trust I will receive a generous donation to the Church in honor of both of today's nuptials.”

Marian smiled. “Oh, you will be rewarded as you deserve.”

The baroness walked over. “My lord bishop, let us hold the wedding service for my sister now. There is a small chapel here, and that shall do nicely.”

The bishop nodded and rose to his feet. “My lords and ladies,” he said. “Pray follow our hosts to the chapel to serve as honored guests in the holy matrimony of...” He turned his head, frowning.

“Lady Agnes of Shrewsbury and Sir Allan of Bonchurch,” Guy supplied.

“Lady Agnes of Shrewsbury and Sir Allan of Bonchurch,” the bishop announced loudly.

“Bonchurch!” Much rose to his feet, goblet in hand. “What?”

The bishop led the way, followed by the baron and baroness, Robin and Marian, and Guy following behind.

Robin smirked over his shoulder. “Shame your lady outranks you,” he said to Guy. “I get the honor of escorting her.”

“Until you marry and escort your own lady,” Guy replied, his voice mild. “Or until I regain Warwick, and make my wife a countess twice over.”

The guests filed in behind, and they walked through the cavernous halls of Montaillaut until they reached the chapel. The room was small but richly adorned. The focal point was an intricately carved statue of Mary, cradling her infant son in her arms.

Marian stepped forward and walked to Agnes’ side. “You do not have to wed if you do not truly desire it,” she said softly. “Despite Guy's words, Bonchurch belongs to me. If you wish to live there and run your own household, you shall have it.”

Agnes shook her head. “I did not wish to marry.”

“But now you do?”

Agnes’ eyes filled with tears. “Allan said...” Her voice broke. “Allan said...”

Marian wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Agnes, please,” Marian said soothingly. “You must not marry a man you do not love.”

“But I do love him,” said Agnes, and wiped away her tears. “I want to be his wife. But I feared the wedding night.” She looked in Marian’s eyes. “I feared he would reject me, because I am not virgin.”

Allan crossed over to Guy. “I need a moment with you, in private.” Allan raised his head and looked at the ornate cross on the altar. “I would not have this discussion in God's house.”

Guy nodded and they walked into the corridor. Allan leaned his back against the wall. “Who is the Duke of Kent?” he asked.

“He is one of Richard's most loyal men,” Guy replied. “A fervent opponent of John, and a sworn enemy of Vasey's.”

Allan sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Jesus.”

“Allan, what is wrong?”

“Agnes is ruined,” said Allan. “That is why she refused my hand. She has no maidenhead.”

Guy frowned in confusion. “But she was a novice. She lived in a nunnery!”

“Agnes was forced, before she took her vows.”

“Agnes was raped?” Guy said, his voice low and dangerous.

Allan nodded. “By the duke of Kent.”

“Then he's a dead man,” Guy said flatly.

“You have sworn to serve Richard,” said Allan. "And I have sworn to serve you! I cannot attack the king's ally." His eyes were haunted.

Guy shook his head. “Agnes was ravished before that promise was made. The second the Duke laid hands on Agnes, he forfeited his life.” He put a hand on Allan's arm. "I will take care of him, Allan, or I will be at your side as you claim vengeance in your wife's name. It is your choice."

“You would help me avenge Agnes?” asked Allan.

“It would be my honor and privilege,” Guy said.

"What you said before, about Bonchurch, and being like a brother?” Allan met Guy's eyes, his face drawn. “You meant it. You spoke truly.”

“I did,” said Guy. “Allan, I promised you that if you served me, I would show you loyalty and you would be rewarded. I will keep that promise. I hope that in time, we will come to trust each other well.”

“It seems it is a day of new beginnings,” said Allan. He drew himself us straight. “And now, it is time for my wedding.” His eyes widened. "Guy, I have no ring.”

Guy reached into his coat and pulled out a leather bag. He picked through it, and handed Allan a ring of silver, decorated with small flowers formed of gems. “I wish you more luck of this ring than I had of it,” he said with a wry smile.

Allan took it. “It's a pretty little thing; Agnes'll like it.”

Guy and Allan walked into the chapel. The crowd parted for them and they stood at the altar rail, next to the priest. Agnes walked in, wearing Marian’s veil. She was dressed richly in a blue silk dress that was slightly too short, and a sparkling necklace of sapphires rested at her throat. Marian walked behind her, carrying her dowry box.

Allan walked down the aisle to Agnes and lifted her veil. He kissed her, his hand cupping her jaw. “I love you,” he said loudly.

Marian walked to her husband’s side. “It seems you have begun a new tradition,” Marian whispered in his ear.

“It seems an excellent way to start a marriage,” Guy replied. He sought out his wife's hand, and her fingers twined with his.

xxxx

Loud voices filled the hall as the revelers settled into their seats. Servers held flambeaux to light the room, and large silver candlesticks were set on each table, even down to the very farthest. A servant rushed over to the baroness. “The cook is most eager for the dishes to be served. He fears for the swan subtlety.”

“We are ready to begin,” the baroness said. She bent forward and looked down the table at the bishop. “My lord bishop, we are prepared for your blessing.”

The bishop rose and bowed his head. The guests bowed their heads. “Our lord Christ,” the bishop intoned, “we ask for your blessing on this most joyous of days. Please grant us wisdom and obedience to your will. We ask all this in your holy name. Amen.”

“Amen,” the guests intoned.

Pages circulated with basins and ewers. The guests cleaned their hands with napkins and refreshed themselves for the meal. Guy grimaced. “Now I smell like rose petals.”

Marian laughed. “I don’t think your manhood is threatened, my lord.” A page filled her glass with honey wine and she took a deep sip.

Guy turned to her and smiled. “No, I think not.”

Platters of food were brought to the high table. The first course featured a whole boar on a spit, a pie of starlings, a clear broth, and an elaborate subtlety of a swan. The bird had been cooked and then the feathers carefully placed back into it.

Marian indicated which items she wanted on her plate. She noticed that Guy took very little. “Are you unwell?” she asked.

Guy patted her knee. “I have truly never been better, my love.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Marian looked through the crowd, watching the guests take their food as the platters moved through the room. She learned over and called down the table. “Robin!”

He turned his head and smiled. “Yes, my love?” The bishop to his right gave him a sharp look.

“Look at Much,” Marian called. Robin saw that his friend has piled so much food onto his trencher that it had collapsed under its weight.

“It is a wonder that he is not as wide as he is tall,” said Guy. “He is the biggest glutton I have ever seen.”

“Some choose to overindulge in other sins,” Marian said, her voice crisp.

“And some sins are sins no more,” said Guy. He leaned forward. “Do you think you’ll enjoy our bed less, now that the spice of sin is gone from it?"

“If the carriage ride is any indication, marital boredom has not set in quite yet,” Marian replied.

“Not quite yet?” Guy said, his eyes sharp. “You anticipate growing bored of me?”

Marian smiled and drank her wine. “When I am great with child like a swollen pumpkin, I am sure that you will not be so eager for my bed.”

Guy grabbed her wrist and leaned forward. “My lady, I look with great pleasure on proving you so very wrong.” He smiled. “And the sooner the better.” He bit her thumb, and she hissed sharply.

Guy rose to his feet, goblet in hand. The guests quieted as all eyes were upon him. “The word of our Lord teaches us that a woman of valor is prized above rubies,” he said. “My wife has proven her bravery time after time, tirelessly giving herself to causes that touch her heart. Her consideration has always been extended to those less fortunate, those who have been deprived. It is the greatest imaginable honor for me to be united in holy wedlock with this woman, who encompasses everything I have ever known of both loyalty and love.” He raised his goblet. “To my bride, the Countess of Knighton!”

“To the Countess!” The guests toasted, and raised their glasses. Guy drank down his goblet in one swallow, and the crowd cheered. Marian looked up at Guy and smiled. Guy leaned down and gave her a long, lingering kiss.

xxxx

Marian gestured for the server to fill her goblet with more mead. “You'll regret it later unless you make that your last drink,” said Guy. “That is your fourth glass, my love.”

“It tastes like heaven,” Marian said.

“But in the morning, you'll think you're in hell,” said Guy.

Marian laughed. “And do you regret your overindulgence earlier?”

Guy frowned. “My head pounds, but I will be able to do my duty by you tonight.” He tilted his head, his eyes heated.

Marian blushed. “I had no doubt.”

He reached under the table and placed one hand on her knee. “You know, my wife, I do not believe I told you how very beautiful you look in your wedding gown.” His hand gathered up her skirts.

Marian grabbed his wrist and set it on his own knee. “I thank your for your compliment, my lord. I must say, though, it seems vain of you to compliment your own taste.”

Guy laughed, the sound full and rich. “I knew the clothes would suit you.”

“You had them made in Acre?” she asked.

He shook his head. “They were in the trunks from Nottingham. I had them made before our first wedding; they were in my rooms at Locksley.”

“You have thought on our marriage such a very long time.”

“Marian, I have dreamed of this day since I first laid eyes upon you,” Guy said. He cupped her cheek with his hand. “I fell in love with you at once,” he said. “The moment I saw you, I knew you were the one I'd been waiting for, all my life.”

Marian smiled. “Such pretty words, Guy. Spoken like a bridegroom on his wedding day.”

Guy leaned forward. “It is not sweet talk, Marian. I speak truly. I first saw you on Beltane day, in Locksley village. You were queen of the may, dressed all in green with a wreath of flowers on your head.” His eyes were intent, boring into hers. “I had never seen such beauty, never heard such true laughter. You were full of joy, a flaming candle whose light reached every shadow of my soul.” He kissed her, deeply, his hands twisting in her hair.

“My lady,” said a deep voice. They broke the kiss and looked up into the face of Sir Herald. “Your lord's behavior would indicate that the time has come for you to adjourn to your chamber.”

Marian looked up in surprise. Agnes took her hand and helped her to her feet. “Let us make you ready for your bridegroom,” she said lightly. Agnes put a hand on Marian’s shoulder and they followed Sir Harold down the dais.

The baroness followed behind, clapping her hands. “Ladies! Come one and all. It is time to put the bride to bed!”

A rush of women came forward from the tables, and they clapped in time with the baroness. She began a lilting song as they walked through the corridors. Marian listed to the lyrics and her face flushed. She began to giggle and grabbed Agnes’ hand. “Your sister is singing a bawdy song!”

Agnes laughed. “I fear my sister is drunk!”

Indeed, Cecilia was. She stumbled, and Marian and Agnes took an arm between them. She stopped singing. “So, you girls are wedded.”

“Yes,” Agnes agreed.

“But not yet bedded,” she said. “So let me give you a bit of advice.”

Agnes’ eyes widened. “Oh, Cecilia. Pray hold your tongue.”

“Don’t be stingy with the lovemaking,” said Cecilia. “Let him between your legs as much as he likes, and he’ll never give you a minute’s trouble.”

Marian laughed. “That’s the secret to a happy marriage?”

Cecilia nodded. “But don’t put your mouth between their legs unless they’ll do the same for you. Otherwise they think they have the upper hand, and no good can come of that.”

The party turned a corner and walked into a bedchamber that was richly furnished and extremely large. A large wooden bed was in the middle of the room, with tapestry curtains tied back onto each of four posts. The floors were covered with rich carpets, and an elaborate tapestry of a hunting scene hung on one wall. The room was brightly lit with tallow candles. The women closed the doors. They began to hang garlands of flowers in the room, and one woman tucked sheaves of wheat in each corner.

Agnes reached out to unfasten Marian’s bodice. “Do not undress the bride,” Sir Harold said, his voice sharp.

“But we must undress her and put her to bed before the bridegroom arrives with the men,” the baroness argued.

Sir Harold shook his head. “No, my lady. King Richard had very specific instructions.”

The baroness frowned. “Well, I never.” She stepped in front of Marian. “Agnes, check her hair for pins.” The baroness untied all the small bows on Marian’s dress, leaving the ribbons hanging loosely.

Agnes took down Marian’s hair, and set the pins and dagger on the table next to the bed. “There were a lot more pins when I put it up earlier.”

Marian blushed. “I think I lost them in the carriage.”

Agnes smiled. “I hope you are agreeable to having a large family, because I think Guy will not leave you one minute’s peace now that you are wed.”

Marian heard a loud whooping in the hallway, and then the doors swung open. In the lead was Guy, perched precariously on the shoulders of Allan, the baron, and Robin. Following behind them in a cheerful mass were all the other male guests, moving forward until the room was filled shoulder to shoulder. The guests cheered as the bridegroom was pitched forward onto the bed.

Guy rose to his feet, his ears red. A trumpet blared in the room, and everyone covered their ears, shrieking. “At the command of King Richard, sovereign ruler of England, it is commanded that Marian, Countess of Knighton, and Guy of Gisborne, Sheriff of Nottingham, are to publicly consummate their union in the presence of the bishop of Marseille, the baron of Montaillaut, and the earl of Huntington. All parties will witness the consummation and sign their names affirming their presence on the document held by the king's clerk, Harold of Naughton,” announced the herald.

“In honor of the nuptials, King Richard has gifted the Countess of Knighton with the estate of Gisborne Manor in the county of Warwickshire, the rents to the villages of Gisborne and Ainsley, and the rights to vert and venison in St. Crispin's Forest.” Two guards staggered forward, carrying a chest. “The king presents a gift of a cloth of gold christening robe in the confidence that Sir Guy's enthusiasm for his lady wife will surely result in an heir within the year.” The guests laughed. Marian met Guy's eyes. His jaw was set, his eyes dark. “Now, according to the wishes of the king, the bride and groom are to publicly disrobe.”

The crowd cheered. Eager hands stepped forward and pulled on Marian's skirt and bodice. Guy swung her up onto the bed, away from the crowd. “What are the specific instructions from the King?” Guy roared.

“You must disrobe in this room and present yourselves nude to the company,” said Sir Harold.

“Richard is a bloody pervert!” Guy yelled, his face red.

“Do you deny the will of the king?” asked Sir Harold. “My troops wait below for my orders.”

Guy nodded. “Very well then.” He moved around the bed, untying the curtains. Each side fell until the bed was completely enclosed by the curtains, with Marian inside them. Guy unlaced his doublet and pulled it over his head. The crowd hooted and whistled. He carefully pulled off the linen shirt, and there was an appreciative murmur.

Guy turned over his shoulder. “How are you doing in there, love?”

“Bodice is stuck,” said a muffled voice.

He turned and stepped onto the bed, pulled the curtains aside and stepped forward. “Where are you?” It was pitch black inside the bed and he could not see. Guy felt a hand on his. Marian moved his hand to her bodice. “I think you shouldn't have had that fourth cup of honey wine,” said Guy. He unclasped the fastenings easily, even in the dark.

Marian giggled. “Perhaps not.” Marian reached for his waist and unlaced his pants. “So, it all comes off then?”

Guy tugged Marian's dress up, and he heard the silk whisper as it went over her head. “Richard is a buggering son of a whore and when we meet again, I will smash his face in,” he declared flatly. He pulled off her shift and Marian pulled his pants down his legs.

Both undressed, Guy picked Marian up in his arms. He stepped out of the darkness of the bed into the brightly lit room. There were catcalls and cheers.

“I hope this satisfies the King,” said Guy loudly. “We have met his demands.” He held Marian close to him, his hands shielding her from view as best as he could.

“You must both be brought to the bed,” explained the messenger.

Agnes tugged Marian out of Guy’s arms, and the baron pulled Guy in the other direction. The baroness placed a garland on Guy’s head. Agnes helped Marian into a long white robe and tied the waist. Robin looped a long garland of braided wheat around her neck and kissed her cheek. “You are even lovelier than I imagined,” he whispered.

Someone began to play a lilting song on a lute, and the guests began to clap and sing. Flowers were thrown onto the bed as the bed curtains were tied back again. Marian was marched around one side of the bed, accompanied by the women, and Guy went around the other, accompanied by the men. The sheets were drawn back with great ceremony, and red flower petals were strewn upon them.

The bishop stepped forward and the music stopped abruptly. “In the name of Lord Jesus Christ, we most solemnly pray for the fidelity of this couple and the fruitfulness of their marriage bed.” He swung a censer, and cloud of incense filled the air. Agnes sneezed.

“Amen,” the villagers intoned. The bishop stepped back in the crowd, and the song began again. Agnes helped Marian into the high bed and Guy stepped up into it. They leaned back against the pillows as Harold stepped forward.

“Now the countess of Knighton and the sheriff of Nottingham will publicly consummate the match.”

Marian looked around at the mass of faces. She turned to Guy. “Perhaps I should have had another glass of honey wine.”

“There's only so far I'm willing to go, and then Harold can drag me off to the Tower,” Guy said flatly, and crossed his arms across his waist.

“The king has commanded it,” said Marian. “What choice do we have?”

Harold of Naughton stepped forward. In his hand he held a long strip of finely embroidered cloth. He lifted his hands. “All present bear witness,” he said loudly. He looked at Guy and Marian. “Move next to each other until your bare legs touch.”

They looked in each other's eyes, eyebrows raised. Guy nodded, and Marian scooted over and shifted her robe. Their bare legs were pressed against each other from the hip down. Harold leaned over and tied the strip of cloth. Their legs were pressed together, bound tightly.

“The marriage of the Countess of Knighton and the sheriff of Nottingham is hereby consummated,” the messenger proclaimed. “Their bodies have become one flesh, as is mandated by the lord our God.”

“Good luck getting a babe on her that way, Guy,” called Allan. The room filled with laughter.

Sir Harold stepped forth and removed the tie. “I wish you both my hearty congratulations on your marriage,” he said.” He turned to the group. “My lords, please come with me to sign your names to the affirmation of the marriage.” The nobles filed out, with Robin casting one last lingering glance as they left.

Agnes pulled the sheets up over them and kissed Marian’s cheek. “Be happy,” she said. Agnes leaned over and kissed Guy’s cheek. “Make her happy, or deal with me.”

“Make Allan happy, or deal with me,” Guy replied with a smile.

Agnes tilted her head. “You have a lovely smile, my lord. I hope to see it more in the future.”

Allan put his arms around her waist. “Come, my lovely wife. We’ve a little bit of business ourselves to take care of now.” He looked down at her hungrily, and she blushed. They walked away, and Agnes rested her head on Allan’s shoulder.

The guests tossed coins and flowers on the bed as they filed out. A servant snuffed out the candles, leaving only the one next to their bed lit. At last the door closed behind them, and Guy and Marian were alone. The silence was complete.

Marian rose from the bed and slipped off the robe. She lay back down beside Guy. “So, we are alone and we are wed,” she said.

Guy turned on his side. “These things are true.” He curled a lock of her hair around his finger. “How does it feel to be my wife?”

“It feels...new,” she replied. “Very new.”

“It has been a long day,” Guy said. “Much has happened, and perhaps you would like to talk.” He smoothed her hair with his hands. “About my mother, Agnes and Allan, even Bonchurch.”

“I think that I would like this instead," said Marian, and guided his hand between her legs.

He leaned forwards and kissed her as he slipped his fingers inside her. “I love you,” he whispered. “My lovely wife. My Marian.”

She stroked him with her hand and rolled on top of him. She sank down onto his cock and he sighed. His hands gripped her arms as she moved on top of him. “I want you so much, my heart aches with it,” she said.

She moved up and down and Guy hissed and groaned with pleasure. He threw his leg over hers and rolled them so that he was on top. “I have wanted this for so long,” he said, his voice tight. “You belong to me.”

His hands slid up her arms and he raised them over her head. He gripped her wrists in his hands and held them tightly as he thrust in and out of her body.

“Tie me down,” she said, her voice ragged.

He looked down at her, his eyes wide. “Marian.”

She pulled her hands from his grip and gave him the consummation tie that lay next to her head. “Bind my hands and take me,” she said. “You want to so badly, I know it.”

“I have dark thoughts,” Guy said. “I wish to impose…” He could not finish the sentence.

Marian crossed her hands above her head and looked up at him, her eyes dark. “You want me to submit, and I will. I am yours. Do it. I belong to you, your wife. Only yours, always.”

Guy pulled the tie around her wrists and tied it to the post above her head. He thrust into her furiously. His hands caressed her breasts, her stomach. His fingers trailed over her scars, both received at his hands. Marian looked up at him, her eyes wide. His wife’s body lay under him, his to do with as he pleased.

Marian arched against him, her wrists pulling against the tie. She cried out with climax, her voice loud in the quiet room. Guy closed his eyes and followed, reaching his own release.

In the hallway outside, the guests raised a cheer.

xxxx

 

In the middle of the night, Marian awoke. Guy lay next to her, his fingers running up and down her spine. She turned to face him, and he kissed her. He ran his hand down her chest and and glided his fingers over her belly. “Even now, you could be carrying our child.”

“That is true,” said Marian. She rested her hand on his chest. “Does that not please you?”

“I fear my blood is tainted,” said Guy quietly. “I carry madness and treason and lies in my lineage.”

“I do not believe that to be true,” said Marian.

“I know it is. I can feel it inside me, festering. This darkness.”

“Look at me, my love.”

Guy looked up, his eyes hooded. “Marian, please.”

“I am your wife,” Marian reminded him. “You're mine, and I'm yours. We are joined, made one.”

“Yes,” he said softly.

Marian leaned over and lit the lamp next to the bed. Light flared in the room, a pool of warmth in the darkness. She picked up her hairpin dagger from the table, held her palm out and cut a thin line across it. Blood welled across the cut.

Marian quickly cut his hand as well, and pressed their palms together. “Your blood is mine, and mine yours,” she said. “If there are dark demons that live within you, they will live in me as well.”

Guy pulled her close to him and kissed her. She responded hungrily, and they caressed each other’s bodies. Guy spread her legs and thrust between her thighs. She cried out, and he moved slowly, so slowly.

Marian opened her eyes. “Please. Please.” Guy slowed even further, moving very gently. She looked up at him. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice silken.

“You,” Marian replied. Her hands slid up his chest and rested on his shoulders. “All of you.”

“All of me?” he asked, moving his hips.

“God, yes, please,” she cried out, and thrust up to meet him.

Guy made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Now, I did not say to move.” He grabbed tight to her hips and held her still.

Marian whimpered. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice smooth. “Talk to me, Marian.”

“Touch me between my legs,” she asked. He complied, rubbing her clit with his hand.

She sighed. “Oh yes.”

He moved back and forth inside her. “Do you like this?”

She looked into his eyes. “Harder.”

He moved deeper, the strokes making them both shudder. The bed banged into the wall with a mighty thud. In the hallway, the guests raised another cheer.

He pulled away from her, withdrawing completely. “Roll over,” he said in a tight voice.

Marian looked up in confusion. “Why?”

“Obey me,” he said, his tone severe. Marian rolled onto her stomach. “Up on your knees,” he instructed. She did as he asked.

Marian felt him reach between her legs and open her lips wide. He thrust inside her in one smooth stroke, and she felt him more deeply that ever before. She cried out at the intensity of it.

Guy stopped moving. “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” she gasped, and he resumed his thrusts. One hand cupped her breast, the other gripping the right cheek of her ass.

“I wish I could fuck you like this forever,” Guy growled. “It is even better than I imagined.”

“You imagined this?” She gasped.

He moved her hair over one shoulder and bit the side of her neck. “Oh, so very many nights.”

Marian cried out. “It is too much. Too deep.”

“Never enough,” he said, and thrust harder. She collapsed forward against the pillows and he held her ass in his hands. “Tell me, Marian.”

“I'm coming,” she cried out. “Oh, yes!”

Guy hammered against her, their bodies slapping with each fierce lunge. “Marian,” he cried out, and shuddered as he reached his release.

In the hallway, the guests cheered again.


	17. Secrets

Marian heard the sweet sound of birdsong as she opened her eyes and stretched her arms. She rolled on her side to see Guy sleeping peacefully. He had kicked off the covers in the night and lay sprawled across the bed.

Marian realized that she had never seen Guy so free of tension, utterly unguarded. His hand lay palm up on the bed. She touched the twin mark on her hand. Last night had been more meaningful to her than all the Latin of the nuptial mass had been. They were truly one.

Marian leaned forward to kiss him, and her stomach lurched. Hurriedly she held her hand over her mouth and climbed off the bed. She looked about for a basin, and remembered that the privy was down the hall. She grabbed her discarded robe from the floor and quickly pulled it on. She opened the door and ran, rushing like hell down the corridor.

Strong arms grabbed her. She whirled around to see Robin's face. “Rushing away from your husband already?” He grinned widely. Marian shoved him out of the way. “Hey!” Robin exclaimed, and grabbed her arms with both hands, holding her in place.

Marian leaned forward and vomited. Robin stepped back, looking at his soiled shirt, mouth agape. “I'm so sorry,” she said, and to her horror she began to cry. “Oh, Robin.” Her stomach clenched painfully and she sank to her knees, sick again on the stone floor.

Robin knelt down beside her and held her hair back from her face. He patted her back as she retched. “It's all right,” he said soothingly. “Just get it all up, love. You'll be the better for it.”

A servant came up to them and curtsied to Robin. “Is your lady ill, my lord?” she asked.

“Yes, she's ill, look at her!” Robin said impatiently. “Run and fetch a basin!”

Marian threw up repeatedly, her sides aching, as Robin comforted her with gentle words. She heard a door open. “Who's being sick outside my door? It's a bit difficult keeping up a romantic mood with my wife with all that racket.”

Marian looked up at the nude figure of Allan A Dale in the doorway, hands on hips. “Naked,” she managed to spit out, before she was ill again.

“Allan!” Agnes hissed.

“Sorry, my love. Where were we?” Allan said. He closed the door to his room.

The servant returned and tucked a basin under Marian's chin. Robin pulled off his soiled shirt, handed it to the servant, and lifted Marian into his arms. “I’ll take you to Gisborne.”

“No,” Marian protested. “Guy's sleeping. Don't wake him.”

Robin looked down at her. “Love, you're green. Let me take you to your husband.”

“Guy doesn't get enough sleep,” Marian said. “I don't want to wake him.”

“Marian,” Robin argued.

“I said no!” She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Her skin was pale, and she looked exhausted. “For once, just do what I ask.”

“Fine.” Robin changed directions and carried Marian down the hallway and into a bedroom. It was small but richly furnished, with an elaborate wall hanging of the Garden of Eden and lavishly carved furniture. He closed the door behind them and lifted Marian into the tall bed. He set the basin in her lap and wet a cloth.

Marian closed her eyes and rested her head against the pillows. She sighed. “Your bed is softer than ours.”

Robin wiped her face and hair clean with the cloth and set it aside. He poured her a mug of water from a ceramic pitcher and handed it to her. “I hoped that watching you and Gisborne wed would kill my love,” Robin said lightly. “But I wanted you just as much as ever this morning when I saw you.”

Marian opened her eyes and looked at him warily. “That is most unfortunate.” She slowly sipped her water.

Robin opened the trunk that lay next to the bed. He pulled out a green linen shirt and pulled it over his head. “However, I think that you being ill all over my favorite shirt may have done the trick.” He turned and grinned, his eyes merry.

Marian smiled. “Good. I will try to be as repulsive as possible, for your heart’s sake.”

“I do not think I could ever find you repulsive.” Robin walked to Marian's side and trailed a finger along her collarbone. “I find you exquisite.”

Marian looked up at him, her eyes dark. “Listen to me, Robin. Find a willing woman and bed her. Find a sensible girl and marry her. It would be nice if they were one and the same, but life isn’t always perfect. I only have enough energy today for one demanding man, and it’s not you.” She handed him her mug and closed her eyes. “Now let me rest.”

Without another word, Robin set the mug down with a crash and left the room.

XXXX

Guy's eyes opened and he looked up at a richly patterned tapestry, blue and gold. It took him a moment to recall where he was. He turned his head to see his wife, but found only a crumpled pillow.

Guy pulled on his clothing and stepped into the hall. He heard the sound of laughter and raised voices and followed them down the stairs. Some of last night’s guests were in a hall, seated at long tables laden with food. Allan and Agnes sat at the table eating, chatting with the baroness. Much laughed, his head thrown back, as the baron rubbed his brow with one hand.

Guy walked over to his host. “Good morning,” said the baron, and smiled up at Guy. “I trust you slept well?”

“I did,” said Guy. “Your home is very comfortable and I thank you again for welcoming us here.”

Agnes looked up with a smile. “Where is Marian? Is she feeling better?”

Guy frowned. “She was ill?”

Agnes’ brow furrowed. “Allan said the Earl of Huntington was taking care of her.”

Guy looked over at Allan and raised one eyebrow.

Allan shrugged. “Marian’s just a bit hung over, Guy. Nothing to worry about.”

Cecilia raised her head. “My sister arrived in the night, Sir Guy. She has come to assist me with my labor and confinement.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “I was not aware that you had a previous acquaintance with my family.”

“Margaret is here?” Guy asked.

Cecilia tilted her head. “No, Sophia is here.”

“Ah,” said Guy.

Agnes smiled up at him. “You never told me that you knew my sisters!”

Robin walked into the dining room, his head bowed. He looked over at Guy and frowned. “Gisborne, I would have a word with you in private.” Guy nodded, and the two men walked into the hall. “It is no secret that I am not reconciled to your marriage.”

“Your feelings on the subject are irrelevant,” Guy replied. “Marian is my wife, and there is nothing that will ever change that.”

Robin grabbed his arm. “I could always kill you.”

“You have threatened me with death so often that it fails to alarm me,” said Guy, and snatched his arm away.

“Believe me when I say it now,” said Robin. He moved in, his face close to Guy’s. “I will not stand idly by and let you hurt Marian.”

“I would never permit any harm to come to Marian,” said Guy. “I would protect her with my life.”

“You've stabbed her twice. She's forgiven you; I have not. I never will.”

“I would do nothing to risk her safety,” said Guy. “She will come to no further harm at my hands. I swear it.”

“No further harm,” said Robin. Guy nodded. “Well, then you will agree that although you will be on the Majestic when it sails to England tomorrow, you will leave Marian behind in France.”

“I would never leave Marian behind,” said Guy, “and if I attempted it, she would defy me. She will not willingly be parted from me, nor I from her.” He stepped back, away from Hood.

“If you value her life and that of your heir, you will not make Marian endure weeks at sea in her condition,” said Robin. “She cannot keep anything down on land; how will she fare on a boat?”

Guy looked at Robin blankly. “You believe Marian to be pregnant?”

“For all my life, I have known her. Marian is never ill, never tired. Yet this morning she was sick over and over, even when her stomach had nothing left to bring back up. The sun is high, and she is asleep in bed! The Marian I know rises with the dawn. I tell you, Marian is with child already, you rutting bastard.”

Guy shook his head. “Marian had four glasses of wine last night. She is not used to drink. That is all.”

Robin rubbed his chin with his hand. “And what if you are wrong? You will risk her safety, and that of your child, on a whim?”

Guy shrugged. “Time will tell whether Marian carries my child. But we leave in the morning for England.”

Robin laughed. “You care nothing for her, do you? You are no decent man, Gisborne. Marian is nothing more than a warm body in your bed!” Guy punched him in the face, and he staggered backwards.

“I see you are up to the same tricks, Gizzy,” said a sweet voice. “You have not changed since last we met.”

Guy turned to look at a petite woman with a lush figure, wide blue eyes and a full mouth. Her hair was drawn up in a golden net decorated with sapphires. “Sophia,” he said, his voice flat.

“Do not address me in such an impertinent manner. You may call me my lady,” she replied.

“You never consented to be my lady, if you recall.”

A small figure darted out from behind her skirts. “Mama, can I go in to breakfast? I am so very hungry and I have waited too long already.” The little girl danced from side to side, her long black curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Please!”

Her mother leaned down and smiled at her, revealing a large expanse of white bosom in the process. “Go sit with your aunts and be a good girl.”

“I will be good!” the girl promised. “I will be very, very good!”

Her mother swatted her bottom. “You'd better.” The little girl giggled and ran into the dining room.

Gisborne's eyes followed the child. “She is grown large.”

“Children have a way of doing that, Gizzy. Unless you stop feeding them, which is frowned upon in civilized society.” Sophia's eyes were as cold as ice, her voice hard.

Guy frowned. “Please do not call me Gizzy, Sophia. You know I do not care for it.”

“I do not give you liberty to address me in such a manner.” She looked at Robin pointedly. “Sir Guy of Gisborne, would you pray introduce me to the latest man you have cuckolded?”

Robin smirked. “Not cuckolded, my lady. Gisborne merely stole my intended and married her himself.”

Sophia turned to Guy. “You married?”

“Yesterday, or over a year ago. There is some disagreement on the specifics.”

“How delightful. I cannot wait to meet this paragon who has consented to wed you.” Sophia smiled at Guy. “I cannot believe that a woman of rank has consented to be your wife.” She tilted her head. “Unless, of course, she is a peasant.”

“My wife is a countess,” Guy said, his voice dry.

“You have restored Warwick, then?” she asked.

“I am but the Sheriff of Nottingham,” said Guy. “My wife is countess in her own right.”

“And what sort of services to the king did your wife perform for that honor?” she asked, her voice smooth as silk.

“Think twice before you insult my wife,” said Gisborne. “Your presumptions based on our past connection are unwelcome, Sophia. Do not presume that the bond that lies between us permits you to speak to me with intimacy."

Sophia flushed. “There is no bond between us.”

Guy smirked. “Ah, the familiar tune. I had nearly forgotten the melody, but here it is again.”

Robin cleared his throat and the two of them looked at him. “I am learning so many things about this lovely woman, and yet her name remains a mystery.”

Sophia turned to Guy, her eyebrows raised. “Gisborne, your manners are still as lacking as they ever were.”

Guy frowned. “Sophia, this is Robin of Locksley, Earl of Huntington. His lands are not large enough nor his fortune broad enough to interest you.” He gestured to Sophia. “Hood, this is Lady Sophia, dowager countess of Oxford.”

“Dowager duchess of Norfolk,” she corrected him. “Oxford was two marriages ago.”

“I wish you well of each other,” he said. “Locksley has an overabundance of sentiment and you, Sophia, have none at all. Now, I must go fetch my wife.”

“No need, my love. I am here.” Three pairs of eyes watched as Marian descended the stairs. She wore a dress of pale pink silk, her hair pulled up with golden combs. She took Guy's arm and kissed his cheek. “Good morning, husband.”

He smiled down at her. “Good morning, wife.”

Robin took Marian’s arm and led her to Sophia. “Marian, pray let me introduce you to Lady Sophia, dowager duchess of Norfolk.” Marian bowed her head. “Lady Sophia, this is Lady Marian, countess of Knighton.”

“I have never heard of Knighton,” said Sophia, her voice ringing with disdain.

“It is in Nottinghamshire,” Marian explained. “In the countryside just beyond Nottingham town.”

“Ah. I had not imagined that anything so rural would appeal to you, Gisborne.” Her eyes flickered to Guy.

“I believe you do not know me as well as you have led yourself to believe.” Guy's voice was tight.

Marian looked up at Guy and saw the repressed fury in his face. “You must come and visit us at Knighton. Some find the simple ways of country folk quite refreshing.” She turned and smiled. “The Earl of Huntington, for example, is very fond of the forest that is part of his lands. I am sure that he could be presumed upon to show you one of his favorite pastimes in Sherwood.”

“And what would that be?” Robin asked, and crossed his arms.

“Why gathering honey, of course,” said Marian. She turned to Sophia. “I’m sure the Earl could be presumed upon to show the duchess where to find that which is sweetest on the tongue.” She raised her eyebrows and smirked.

Guy grabbed Marian’s arm. “Let us go in to dine.” The earl took the duchess's arm and escorted her in. Guy and Marian followed behind.

“Sophia!” Two voices cried out as one. The baroness and Agnes both ran over to embrace their sister. Agnes' hand knocked the jeweled net from Sophia’s head, and the duchess’ hair swept down her back, the same pale gold shade as her sisters. Robin walked over to Much and sat at his side.

Guy sat Marian at a seat near the middle of the table, where no others were near. “So, you are previously acquainted with the duchess,” Marian said. She poured a goblet of water from the pitcher and handed it to her husband.

He took the drink and looked at her warily. “Yes.”

“Lovers?” Marian handed him a soft roll and a dish of butter.

“Yes, we were lovers,” Guy said in a low voice. He looked up at her, his eyes dark. “It is not common knowledge, Marian. Despite her manner, Sophia is a true lady. Her reputation was not stained by her association with me.”

Marian watched Sophia smile and laugh with her sisters. “She is one of the daughters of the Earl of Shrewsbury. How did you make her acquaintance?”

“I killed her husband,” Guy explained.

Marian turned her head. “And do I know why?”

He looked into her eyes. “Yes, you know why he had to die.”

“Very well. I take it, then, that the match was not a happy one.”

“He abused her and ignored her,” said Guy. “She was very pleased to be rid of him.”

“And it was for her sake that you brought Agnes back from the Holy Land?"

“Sophia wrote and asked me to find Agnes in Acre and return her to France,” said Guy. “I did what she asked. It was a simple favor, nothing more.”

Marian watched the little girl run up and wrap her arms around her mother’s waist. Sophia bent and picked up the child, and she was absorbed into the embrace of the three sisters.

“She bore your child,” Marian said quietly, and sipped her water.

“No. Edith is the child of her late husband.” Guy picked up a slice of bread and ripped it into chunks on his napkin.

Marian looked at the little girl. “Guy, she has your eyes, your hair, and your nose.” She glanced over at her husband. “My love, there is really no use denying the nose.”

“The child was born nine years ago, just six months after the earl died. Edith is legitimate. She is the daughter of an earl and the heiress of his estate. Someday, she will make a fine match, as Oxford's daughter.”

“And if she is the daughter of the Earl of Warwick, will her chances be any less to make a good marriage?”

“I do not have Warwick,” said Guy.

“But you will,” said Marian. “Your mother has confessed to treason, your father's name will be cleared, and you will inherit.” She shrugged and bit into a slice of bread thickly slathered with honey.

Guy looked down at her. “I do not understand your assurance that the world will order itself as you wish.”

She swallowed. “Well, this attitude has served me well. I see no reason to change it now.”

Guy laughed and leaned down to kiss her. The kiss was warm, prolonged and tasted like honey. He broke the kiss and cupped her face. “You seem as well as ever.” His eyes searched hers. “Agnes said you were ill.”

“I was sick as a dog this morning,” Marian replied. “I told you I'd had too much honey wine last night.”

“Do you think that's all it was?” Guy asked. “Too much drink?”

“I'm well enough now. What else could it be?” Marian looked up at him, her expression puzzled. “I have no fever, no chills, and if I am with child, it is too soon for any sign. My courses are not due for weeks.”

“Oh,” said Guy. He drank his water in thoughtful silence. He leaned over to pat her hand. “Marian, where is your reliquary ring?” His hand traced a thin red line that ran along the back of her hand.

“I was hoping you would not notice.”

“I noticed,” he said darkly. “You removed your ring, and you became ill nearly at once. You must put it back on.”

“I cannot.” Marian reached into her pocket and pulled out the broken pieces. “I hoped to slip off to a goldsmith in town to have it repaired while you made the final arrangements for the voyage home.”

Guy held the ring in one hand and gently replaced the lid with the other. He looked at it closely. “The glass is broken, but that is easy enough to replace. There are two small pins missing which secure the lid to the base. I would imagine it would not be hard to fix.” He turned to Marian. “But where is the relic, Marian? Where is Saint Crispin's bone?”

Marian sighed. “I am sorry to say, Guy, that your father was cheated long ago.” She handed Guy the wax tube.

“This was inside the ring?” Guy frowned. “It is not bone.”

“My lord, you have a secret message,” said a tiny voice. Guy and Marian turned to look in the wide eyes of Edith. “I know someone who sends messages in that way.”

Guy smiled at the girl. “I do not think it is a message, sweetheart. It is just a lump of wax.”

The child shook her head. “No, my lord, there is a trick to it. May I show you?”

Guy handed her the tube. Edith twisted both ends and a crack appeared along the center of the tube. She twisted the other way, and the crack widened. She slipped her fingers inside it and pulled out a scroll of parchment. “I told you there was a message,” she said proudly. She gently set it in Guy's palm, their hands lightly touching.

“Indeed you did,” Marian said. “You are a clever girl.”

“My mama says I am as clever as my papa, and have a temper to match,” the little girl said brightly.

Guy roared with laughter. “Did she say that?”

The girl nodded. “I do not know for sure, though. My papa went away to heaven before I was even born.”

Guy's eyes searched the girl's. “No, your father never got to see you, Edith.”

Marian watched her husband stare with raw fascination into the face that mirrored his own. “I am sure that if your papa were here, he would tell you how much he loves you and how proud he is that you are so clever,” she said.

Guy stood up abruptly, clenching the parchment in his hand, and left the table. Edith watched him go. “He seems a very sad man,” the girl said.

“Not for much longer, I hope.” Marian patted the chair next to her. “Edith, who showed you how to open the wax tube?”

“Well, the abbess, of course,” said Edith. She sat down next to Marian and swung her feet happily.


	18. Past Loves

Guy walked down the corridor, his heart racing. It was too much: the intensity of his feelings for his wife; the sight of the child he knew in his bones was his; the message that was hidden in the place of Saint Crispin’s bone. He felt that his skin was too tight; he could not fit all of these emotions underneath the surface.

He stepped into the first empty room he found and closed the door behind him. It was clearly the baron’s study, filled with a large desk, with scrolls, quills, and parchments scattered on low tables. Guy sat down in a chair before the fireplace and unrolled the message that his child had discovered so cleverly.

His hands trembled. He knew what was in the parchment would shake him. It would hurt him. Everything that had to do with his mother still had the power to pierce him, make him bleed. His mother was a murderer. Her machinations had killed his father. She had willingly handed him over to Vasey, knowing the abuse he would suffer in his care. Fury filled Guy, so potently that his body shook with the force of it.

He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. Nothing in this paper could harm him. He knew the worst of it already, did he not? His father had been dead over twenty years. The scales had been lifted from his eyes about his holy, devout mother. He had no illusions left to destroy. He unfurled the parchment between his fingers and read.

I pray that Saint Crispin's bone will protect me. I take the relic from your ring, a thief in the night. I carry a piece of the saint in my pocket now. I will hold it tightly in my hand as I face the Tower and the axe, and pray with all my soul for a miracle. I do not deserve this punishment, Isabel, for loving you and only you.

In the end, I have only myself to blame. You told me at the beginning that our marriage would bring me only pain, and you were right. I felt that the power of my love for you could burn through any obstacle, that the pleasure I gave you in our bed would melt the ice that concealed your heart from me. But I was so horribly wrong.

In the end, my wife, I hold tight to the deception that my life has become. I would prefer going to my death as a traitor than pointing the finger of blame towards my own wife. I would not see you executed as the murderer you are. Despite it all, I still love you too well to see you suffer so.

It all becomes so clear to me now: the assassin that I killed was sent by you, not some unknown enemy. The innocent cook who, no doubt, had nothing to do with the poisoned meals that were served at our table. His death lies heavy on my conscience. I wonder now of the children that we lost: Margery, overlaid in the night; John, found dead in his cradle. The later years, there were no children, just stillbirths and early losses. I blamed God for our barrenness, but it was not His work, was it Isabel? It was by your hand. I hope that in heaven I am reunited with the children of my body, the sons and daughters that you killed rather than permit me to love them.

You left only Guy to me. I know not why. Perhaps because he was made in love, before all affection you had for me soured. I know you do not wish to recall it but I remember, my Isabel, even if you will shake your head and deny me. The early days of our marriage were the best ones of my life. We had so much joy in each other, so much love between us. I wish to God I knew what I did to turn your love to hate; how did we lose each other so thoroughly, and live under the same roof?

I hope and pray with every breath I have left that you will open your heart to our only son. He wants only to love you, Isabel. He is but a child still; there is time enough to let the past be past.

I beseech you, my wife, that if there is a corner of your heart that is not filled with your manic love for Christ, you will open it to Guy. You have stripped him of his inheritance. You have deprived him of a father's love. Please, Isabel, as your husband, I beg you to show him how to love.

God help me Isabel, for after all is said and done, I am still yours, body and soul.

Crispin, Lord Gisborne, Earl of Warwick

The door opened behind Guy. He turned to see Marian come in. “There you are. I thought I'd lost you.”

“You found me easily enough.” Guy folded the parchment and tucked it inside his coat.

His wife hovered in the doorway, half in and half out. “I can leave you, if you wish. I just wanted to apologize.” Marian bit her lip and looked at her feet. “I had no right to push you about Edith. It was wrong of me to put words in your mouth.”

Guy looked at his blushing bride, so thrown off balance and uncertain. “Something is wrong. What is it?”

Marian smiled nervously, her eyes bright. “Nothing,” she said cheerfully.

How many times had he seen her like this, her face wide and open, asking for favors, sweetening him up before she ran off to do something dangerous? Was she thinking to run off with Hood again in some scheme? A plot was brewing behind those lovely eyes. “I thought we were past such games now, Marian.”

“This is not a game,” she said seriously. “Far from it.”

“Whatever your scheme is, you will tell me now,” Guy said. “I will be obeyed in this.”

“Am I to have no secrets now that I am your wife?" she asked, her tone light.

“You can keep any secret you wish as long as you do not put yourself in jeopardy,” he said, his voice severe.

Marian raised her head and met his eyes. “Edith has shared something with me, and I will ask permission to see the abbess. I have some questions that I sorely wish to ask her.”

“I forbid it,” Guy said flatly.

“The abbess is under guard,” said Marian. “There is no risk to me.”

“I do not wish you anywhere near my mother,” said Guy. “We leave Marseille in the morning. Until then, I wish you to stay here, in this house. If you absolutely must go in to town, you will be armed and you will be accompanied by myself or Allan at all times.”

“Am I a prisoner, or your wife?” Marian raised her chin.

Guy met her eyes. “My love, shut the door.” She did as he asked, and he beckoned her forward with one hand. She walked to his side and he put his hands on her waist and settled her into his lap. He pressed a gentle kiss to her neck and she shivered.

“Did you read the message from the ring?” she asked.

“A simple love letter between my parents. It is of no importance.”

“Ah.” The disappointment was evident in her voice.

Guy ran his tongue along her neck. “You look so lovely with your hair up. I can see all of your fine, elegant neck.” He lavished her skin with gentle kisses.

Marian turned her head and smiled at him. “You think to distract me with your kisses, but I am not so easily swayed. I will visit the abbess.”

“I could distract you if I wished to, could I not?” His finger traced along the edge of her bodice, running over the swells of her breasts. “The desire that runs between us is a potent force.”

Marian closed her eyes and gasped. “You know it to be true. There is no end to my wanting you.” Her voice was so soft that he could barely hear the words.

He pulled her skirts up and reached between her legs. She was already wet, ready for him. Her body proved without question the truth of her words. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and trusting.

Guy thrust his fingers inside her, once, twice, and she cried out, her face flushing red. He kissed her neck. “You are so beautiful when you come for me,” he whispered, and licked the side of her neck. She trembled in his hands.

Guy rose to his feet, holding her in his arms. “I will take you to our chamber.” She leaned up to kiss him and they ardently embraced, the kiss deep and heated.

Marian pushed at Guy's chest with her hands. “Put me down.” He let go of her and she stood on her feet. “I cannot wait that long,” she said breathlessly. “Please. Now.”

Guy lifted Marian onto the desk and raised her skirts. The pink silk rustled against the smooth wood. Marian unlaced his pants and drew forth his cock. She moved her hands on his shaft, and he hardened under her touch. “I need you now,” he said huskily. Impatiently, he pulled her towards him and thrust inside her.

Marian wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned back onto the table. Guy reached forward with one hand and pulled out the golden combs from her hair. The black locks tumbled down, gleaming against the light wood of the desk. Guy jerked down her bodice and her white breasts were released from her dress, pale against the pink silk. He pinched one nipple between his fingers until it hardened.

This would not last long. Marian was very near already, her eyes closed and mouth open wide. She tightened around him and he watched as her hands closed into fists, her shoulders shaking as she reached orgasm. She looked up at him, her flushed face the same pretty pink as her dress. “You make me feel so wonderful.” She reached her hands under his jacket and stroked his skin. “I cannot believe you are mine.”

“I am yours,” Guy said. “Marian, I am so lost without you.”

Marian looked up at him. “I love you so much,” she said tenderly.

Guy closed his eyes. “Marian.” She gripped his chest with her hands as he came, crying out words of love to this woman, his wife.

He collapsed forward, lying on top of her as he panted for breath. She slid away from underneath him and sat up, righting her bodice and fixing her sleeves. “Thank you for obliging my whim,” she said with a smile. “I'm sure that our bed would have been more comfortable.”

“My dear, I am willing to oblige any fancy you have to bed me, whether a bed is available or not,” Guy said with a smile.

She laughed and kissed his mouth. “You are the most considerate of husbands.”

“I am the most eager of husbands.” Guy kissed her throat. “Marian, I love you so.”

“And I you.” Marian kissed his cheek. “Utterly. Completely. Besotted.”

Guy held her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “I am not deserving of such happiness.”

“No one is worthier than you,” she replied, and covered his mouth with hers in a deep, searching kiss.

The door opened. “The estate is only two thousand acres,” Luc explained, but the winery...” He turned to face his desk and stopped. Robin stood behind him, his face an icy mask as he took in their disheveled state.

Guy quickly pulled down Marian's skirt and lifted her from the desk. “A lovely piece of furniture, this desk,” said Marian. “I wish to buy one like it for my husband's use at Knighton.” She picked up a golden comb from the desk and hastily stuck it into her hair.

“It is my pleasure to give you this one as a wedding gift,” Luc said with a bow. His eyes twinkled. “I hope it gives you many years of such pleasure as it has today.”

“You are too generous, my lord.” Guy smiled and took Marian's hand. They walked towards the door.

“My lady,” Robin said, his voice cold. “I believe this belongs to you.” He held out the mate to the golden comb that was in her hair.

Marian took it from his hand. “Thank you.”

“You seem well recovered from your illness this morning,” said Robin, his voice dripping with ire.

“As I suggested to you earlier,” Marian said, meeting his eyes, “you would do well to engage in similar sport yourself. Perhaps it would improve your temperament.”

They left the room and walked down the hall. “Would you like to freshen yourself in our chamber?” asked Guy. His wife nodded, and they made their way to their rooms. A chambermaid curtsied to them and left. The linens were fresh and newly cut flowers lent their scent to the room.

Guy took off his jacket and pulled his shirt off. “I would like to cleanse your wound and change that bandage,” said Marian. She fetched the apothecary chest and basin. Guy sat on the edge of the bed and Marian tended to his wounds. The arrow wound was healing well, with no sign of infection. Guy cursed when Marian rubbed the healing ointment onto it, but he was bandaged anew in little time.

Marian set aside the chest and basin, and stroked Guy's chest, her eyes fixed upon it. “This hunger for you, it is endless.” She leaned forward and licked his nipple. “I am so roused by the sight of you.” She moved her mouth to the other and sucked hard, her hands sliding across his back.

Guy leaned back onto the bed and they lay down together. He reached out and grabbed her bodice with both hands. Her dress shredded under his grip, the two halves gaping apart and leaving his wife nude from shoulders to waist.

Marian looked up at him, her eyes dark. “Again?”

“Oh, yes, again.”

“You do not mind?” Guy pressed her hand to the unmistakable bulge in his pants. “Ah, I see you do not.” He extracted her from the dress by ripping it apart, leaving wisps of pink silk drifting through the air like rose petals. Marian sat on top of him, nude. She pulled off his pants and they gazed on each other with heated eyes.

She stroked his cock, her hands sure and true. He caressed her breasts, his hands running over their curves. “If you bed another woman, I will kill you,” she said conversationally. He chuckled, and she looked at him sharply. “You doubt me?”

“I doubt the need. There is no other woman that I want. Only you.” He leaned forwards and licked her nipple.

“I am not as lovely as some,” she said. “My hair is too dark, my waist is too large, my bottom too wide. Other women are much more beautiful than I am.”

“You are the loveliest woman I have ever seen,” he said, his voice smooth. “Marian, you are so very beautiful.”

She smiled down at him. “The way you look at me, it makes me feel quite beautiful.”

He grabbed her hips and rolled her over. She lay underneath him, and curled one leg around his waist as he entered her. “I have never loved another woman,” Guy said softly. “Just you.” Guy moved so slowly, and he leaned down, kissing her as they made love.

She held him tightly, both arms wrapped around his chest. Her mouth was soft, her kisses heated. They moved in perfect harmony, without urgency, taking all the time in the world to join together.

He came first, his hands tightening on her arms, and she followed soon after, gazing up at Guy with wide, naked eyes. They lay together afterward in warm contentment. Guy had nearly drifted off to sleep when he heard Marian say softly, “I know you never loved her, but I hate her just the same.”

“You have no reason to be jealous of Sophia,” Guy took her hand and their fingers twined together. “What we had was neither deep nor lasting.”

“It lasted long enough to make a child,” she replied, and Guy was stunned by the bitterness in her voice.

“Believe me, there was no intent on either side for that to occur,” he said. “The last thing in the world I ever wanted was to sire a bastard.”

“And yet you have, twice. At least. Are there more children out there who are yours, whether they know it or not?”

Guy met her gaze. “I am no saint, Marian. My impulses are as strong as those of any other man.”

“How many are there?” she asked.

“I am not indiscriminate. I steered clear of tavern wenches and whores, for the most part. I find it hard to enjoy sex unless the responses are genuine. Practiced artifice does not interest me.” He looked in her eyes. “Once I asked your father for your hand, there were no other women, Marian. I was faithful even to the idea of you, once I fell in love.”

She softened, the pinched and angry look fading from her face. “I am sorry. I have no right to be jealous about attachments you formed long ago.”

Guy shrugged. “It is human nature. Hood never lay with you, and I still want to smash his head in, just for the fact that once you loved him.”

“So you are jealous of him still?”

Guy looked in her eyes. “Oh, yes.”

She smiled. “That makes me feel slightly better about Sophia.”

“Good.” He pulled her close and she rested her head on his shoulder. “In answer to your question, I have fathered three children. You know of Edith. I fathered two children with a serving maid of Nottingham called Annie. One, a son, died stillborn; the cord around his neck strangled him. The other, born less than a year later, was named Seth. I know you know of him, as well as his mother."

Marian looked up at her husband. “Guy, why did you leave your child in the woods to die?”

“Better for him to die an innocent than suffer life as a bastard,” said Guy. “That boy had no chance for a decent life. I would not give him my name or my protection.”

“Why would you not claim the child?”

“Enough, Marian.” Guy looked at her, his eyes angry. “You promised not to hold my past against me.”

“I want to understand your actions,” Marian said. “I am not judging you, Guy. I simply wish to know how someone capable of such love, such depths of feeling could leave a helpless child to die.”

“What sort of life can he hope to have?” said Guy. “His mother is an illiterate peasant. His father, a knight with blackened name. The best he can hope for is to learn a trade, to live his life breaking his back under someone else's thumb. It was a kindness, to free him from a world that has no place for a boy without a father. A world who sees in innocence only an opportunity to be exploited.”

Marian reached out and touched his shoulder. “Annie is a loving mother, Guy. She would never permit her child to be used and abused as you were as a boy.”

“But he has no man to protect him,” Guy argued. “Annie is stupid and weak. She will not be able to protect him from harm.”

“When we return to Nottingham, you will send for your son and his mother. You will give him your name; you will provide a comfortable life for him and educate him; and you will show him love and affection.”

“I will not.” Guy's tone was final, absolute.

“Then as the Countess of Knighton, I will make the arrangements myself. I will find Annie a husband to care for her, a man to help her raise her son. I will make sure that Seth has all the opportunities in life that are open to him. He should not be punished because you did not love his mother. You begat two children on her just the same.”

“My relationship, such as it was, with Annie was one of convenience. My shortcomings are not your concern. I will not permit you to sully yourself with the mistakes of my past.”

“I am your wife now. Our lives are entwined. You will provide for your son and his mother, or I will.” Maran raised her eyebrows, her jaw set.

He met her eyes. “I knew that you would think less of me for my past. No love can be so unconditional.”

She leaned forward and kissed him. “My love, I will not think less of you. But I will drag you kicking and screaming to live your life with justice and honor. I know you are capable of being a truly great man.”

Guy sighed. “Marian, I cannot bear to deal with Annie and the child. I was unable to return her affections, I let the relationship continue long past when I should have and I have no love for the child.”

“You never set eyes on Edith before today, and I can tell that you deeply love her. Is it because her mother is a noble? Are you so much a snob?” Marian asked sharply.

Guy flushed. “You have made your point. Make what arrangements as you see fit for Seth and his mother.”

“You will acknowledge him?”

Guy nodded. “I will claim him as my son, yes.”

“And will you try to love him?”

Guy shot her a wary look. “Marian, will you ever be satisfied?”

“All I ask is that you try. Can you please try?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “For your sake, to please you, I will try.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

They lay together in silence. Guy let his thoughts run free, his hand idly stroking Marian's back. “Marian, why did you wish to see my mother? What could a child of nine say that would peak your interest so?”

“Your mother invited Edith and her mother to the abbey to be her guests and visit Agnes. That is how Cecilia met the baron and came to live at Montaillaut. Your mother has sought to keep an eye on this family. She must know you are Edith's father; what other reason would she have to act this way?”

“Marian, no one knew of our affair,” said Guy. “It is impossible that a cloistered nun in France could be abreast on clandestine meetings in the south of England.”

“I believe that she has had spies watching you for some time,” said Marian. “Edith says that there is a trunk filled with wax tubes in the abbess' chambers. They are filled with messages. Edith admitted that she stole one from the abbess, because she was intrigued by them.” She slipped from the bed and returned with a rol of parchment. “Guy, I would very much like to ask your mother what this means.”

The parchment was filled with strings of letters and pictures. They combined to spell out words in gibberish. Guy frowned. “It is a cipher,” he said. “Vasey used one to exchange messages with the Black Knights.”

Marian looked at the code. “How does it work?”

“Each letter stands in for a different letter. Vasey's cipher used pictures as well, a falcon, a star, to make it more difficult to break.” He looked in Marian's eyes. “We do not need to ask my mother what this means; I know this code.” He pointed to the paper, showing her the falcon, the bow, the star.

“You can read it?”

Guy nodded. “And I recognize the hand. This message was written by Vasey.” His eyes scanned over the first line. “My dearest and only love,” he read. “My beloved Isabel...” Guy's voice broke, and his hands shook.

Marian sucked in her breath, her eyes wide. “Christ.”

Guy smashed the parchment into a ball and tossed it away. He gripped his head in both hands. “It is not true,” he whispered. “No. No. No.”

Marian put her hands on Guy's shoulders. “My love,” she said soothingly.

“No. No.” Guy shook his head furiously. Marian wrapped her arms around her husband. He clung to her, his body shaking. “Please God, no,” he said, his voice a whisper. “I cannot bear it.”


	19. Force

Guy was lost to her. He lay back against the pillows, his eyes fixed on a high point on the wall. Marian ran her fingers along his hand, and his fingers closed over hers. He sighed then, and turned to face her. “I must speak with my mother.”

“These secrets have lied buried for a very long time, Guy. Perhaps it is best to leave them undisturbed.”

“I must know the truth. I cannot face wondering the rest of my life who my father is.”

“What if she tells you that it was Vasey?” Marian asked. “Can you bear the truth of it?”

“I must know whether I am a patricide,” Guy said quietly. “And I would know the truth of how the man who raised me came to love my mother.” His eyes met hers. “Truly, I would not have thought him capable of loving any woman. This riddle- I must know the truth of it.”

Guy rose from the bed and washed himself, and dressed in his leathers. He strapped on his sword, and turned to Marian. He beckoned her to him with one hand. “Come, Marian.” She rose from the bed and stood before him. “I love you dearly.” His eyes searched hers. “Never doubt it.”

Marian’s throat tightened. “I love you as well. Guy-”

Guy pressed a gloved finger to her lips. “Hush and listen.” His eyes bored into hers. “You will stay here at Montaillaut. Swear to me that you will remain here in safety as I confront my mother.”

“I will not leave you to face this alone,” Marian argued. “I wish to be at your side.”

“These are my demons to face,” said Guy. “I do not need anyone, Marian. I have spent my life alone.”

“But you are not alone any longer,” said Marian. “I am your wife! You have me!”

Guy's face twisted, and for one moment she thought he would cry. “You will obey me!” he roared. “I will not risk you. I cannot risk losing everything again.”

“No harm will come to me,” said Marian. She met his eyes with a steely glare. “I will be armed. We will bring Allan and Rob-”

“Marian, I am not negotiating with you,” Guy interrupted. “I am telling you the way it will be.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “I have lived my life always under someone's thumb: my father; my mother; Vasey. If you think that I will live my life under yours as well, you are very much mistaken.”

Marian took in the fury in his eyes, the tightness in his jaw, and acquiesced. “I will obey your wishes.”

Guy leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead. “I hope so, for if you do not, the consequences will not be to your liking.” He kissed her mouth lightly and left the room.

Marian sat down on the bed and bit the edge of her thumb. Her mind raced through the possibilities, all the myriad ways that the abbess could strike out at Guy, injure him in body or spirit. It was not to be borne.

Marian washed herself quickly, tucked her hair behind her ears and rustled through the trunk of clothes that Guy had selected for her. She found a dagger with its own silver sheath, decorated with a G and M entwined, and set it aside. She pulled on a white linen shift, with a delicately embroidered leaf green dress over it.

Marian slipped the knife into her boot. A tap sounded at the door. Marian pulled the curtains open, letting in the sunlight, and opened the door. Agnes stood there, dressed in a light blue silk gown, her hair hanging over one shoulder in a long braid. “May I come in?” she asked.

“Of course,” Marian replied.

Agnes sat down in a chair and folded her hands in her lap. “Marian, I have come to love you well,” she said. “I know that I open my mouth when it was better that it remains closed.”

Marian sat in the chair that stood next to her friend's. “Speak freely, please. If your heart is heavy I wish to lighten it, if I can.”

Agnes sighed and tucked a stray lock of hair behind one ear. “A messenger arrived for Luc. The ecclesiastical court met this morning. The bishop sent word to Luc that he is requested to be there in the morning to witness the execution. The abbess will burn at dawn for her crimes.”

Marian's eyes widened. “They will burn her?”

Agnes nodded and bit her lip. “I cannot feel anything but relief, Marian; although I know it is wrong to do so. But I feel so badly for Guy.” Her eyes filled with tears. "His face when Robin told him the news.."

Marian covered her mouth with one hand and closed her eyes. “Guy, I fear, still wears his heart on his sleeve where his mother is concerned. If she is trapped and cornered, facing death, then Guy is in even greater danger than I feared. I must follow him.” Marian rose and turned to Agnes.

“It is not wise, Marian,” said Agnes. “You must let Guy fight his own battles. It is not a woman’s place to wage war at her man’s side. That is not the way the world works.”

“Then I will remake the world to suit myself,” Marian replied.

xxxx

“I am sorry, sir, but the prisoner is allowed no visitors,” said the guard.

Guy made a determined effort to keep his temper. “I am her son. It is imperative that I speak with her.”

“I am sorry,” said the guard.

“She will be executed at dawn, man,” Guy argued. “She's without weapons, defenseless. I wish her no harm. I desire only to speak with her. A few minutes, no more.” He pulled a bag of coins from his pocket. “I would be most grateful.”

The guard looked down at the bag of coins. His eyes met Guy's. “Is she truly your mother?”

“Yes,” said Guy. “I swear on my wife's life, she is.”

“Take my advice. Remember her as she was- the best memory of her you have. You don't want to see what they've done to her, in the name of God.” The disgust dripped from the guard's voice. “I've seen war, sheriff. I've never seen such brutality as I saw today.”

Guy shook his head. “There are secrets my mother holds, the only living person who knows them. I must know the truth.”

The guard sighed and pocketed the bribe. “Five minutes, no more.” He unlocked the door and pushed Guy into the room.

The door locked behind him and it took Guy's eyes a moment to adjust. The room was flooded with brilliant light. What he thought at first was a heap of rags on the floor was his mother, lying on the stone floor underneath a cross. He knelt at her side. She was unconscious. Dried blood crusted her mouth, and he saw that she bitten through her lower lip. The soles of her feet were shredded, dozens of slashes across the swollen skin. Her hands had been smashed, her fingernails removed.

Guy walked to the bed in the corner of the room and ripped off the sheet. He returned to his mother's side and cleansed her wounds, wrapping her hands and feet. He saw that the cloth over her shoulders was shredded. He cut away the ruins of her gown and saw that his mother's injuries were extreme; there seemed to be no part of her that had not been savagely abused under torture. He cleared his mind and tended his mother's wounds.

The Abbess moaned and opened her eyes. "Father?"

"It is Guy, mother."

"Guy." Isabel reached out one bandaged hand and pressed it to his cheek. "My son, I have been a poor mother. Forgive me."

"I forgive you everything," Guy said, his voice hoarse. "Mother, I know you are in great pain."

"Pain never bothered me. It was its absence I could not bear." Her eyes closed.

“Mother,” said Guy. “Mother, can you tell me who my father is?”

Isabel opened her eyes. “Crispin, Earl of Warwick. Are you daft?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “I feel the world is shifting under my feet. Mother, what was Vasey to you?”

She turned her face away. “I do not wish to speak of him.”

“I know he loved you,” said Guy.

“We loved each other,” Isabel replied.“I was miserable in my marriage, suffocated by a man who could not express his feelings but took me every night in silence. I bore you, and I was seized by a darkness that I had never known. I wished only to sleep and be left alone. They forced me from my bed for the churching, and gowned me to Crispin’s taste, adorned with gaudy jewels. It was at the cathedral that I saw Vasey for the first time. He was your godfather; I was still ill when you were baptized, and had not met him. Vasey smiled at me, and his grin was so wide I could not help but return it. In the darkest time of my life, he gave me light. I loved him for it.”

“Mother, I am glad that you knew love,” Guy said. “Life is too lonely without it.”

“Vasey knew all the corners of my soul, and never turned away from me,” replied Isabel. “Only God could have torn me from his side.” She closed her eyes.

“Mother, do not go,” Guy pleaded..

“Tell Edith I will miss her,” said the Abbess. “You know, that child reminds me so much of myself as a girl.”

“Mother, how did you learn of Edith?” Guy asked. “Mother?” Her face was smooth and free of pain, free of anger. It took him a moment of disbelief to understand that she was free of life as well. She had slipped away into the arms of Christ.

“Mother.” Guy leaned his head on his mother's neck and sobbed. Warm tears ran forth as emotions that had lain fallow for years bubbled up inside him. He wept for all that he had lost and all that he had never had.

xxxx

Marian waited in the courtyard, foot tapping and arms crossed. Allan walked outside and squinted from the bright sunlight. “I sent a servant for you long ago,” said Marian angrily.

Allan’s eyes widened when he saw the waiting horses and the sword at her side. “Oh, not this again.”

“Guy is in danger,” Marian explained. “We must hurry.”

Allan set his hand on her shoulder. “Look, Marian. Guy’s orders are to keep you here. If you leave Montaillaut before we head to the docks in the morning, he'll cut off my balls and shove them up my arse.”

Marian raised her eyebrows. “Allan, I know that you are not so cowed by Guy that you would bow to his orders.”

Allan tilted his head and frowned. “Listen here, you bossy bitch. When are you going to realize that your days of running amuck, righting wrongs and sticking your nose in other people’s business are behind you? You're wed. You’re a bleeding countess! Grow up, Marian. Guy's a grown man; he doesn't want or need to hide behind your skirts.”

“Fine. If you will not help, stay out of my way.” Marian turned her back on Allan and prepared to mount her horse.

Allan grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. “I didn't want it to be this way.” He pulled his sword from his belt. Before Marian could react, he smacked the sword’s hilt into her temple and the world went black.

xxxx

Guy lifted his mother's body into his arms. He walked to the door and kicked it. The guard opened the door and looked at him warily. “My lord, you cannot leave with the prisoner.”

“My mother is dead, you fool. She is no one's prisoner any longer.”

The guard looked down at the abbess' body. “The bishop will be most displeased.”

“The bishop can go fuck himself,” Guy said flatly. He pushed past the guard. “Was there a coffin prepared for her?”

“Yes, my lord. It waits below in the courtyard.”

Guy turned and looked at the man. “I want the coffin loaded on a cart, as well as my mother's personal belongings. Every scrap that belonged to her is mine now.”

“My lord, I cannot release anything to you without the bishop's consent.”

“Then bring me the bishop, now,” Guy growled. “Now!”

The guard scurried off. Guy returned to his mother's rooms and placed her gently on the bed. He reached underneath it and pulled out a trunk. As Marian had said, It was filled with opened wax tubes containing message scrolls. There were many of them. Guy rummaged though the furniture until he found a woven drawstring sack, grabbed handfuls of parchments and stuffed them inside it. He removed the coat and slung the sack across his body, then pulled his coat over it, concealing it from view. He ransacked his mother's room, shoving jewelry, a Psalter, scraps of parchment and other small items into every available pocket of his coat.

Footsteps alerted him to the return of the guard. The bishop walked into the room, his face florid with anger. “Explain your presence in these chambers.”

“I bribed the guard,” Guy said baldly.

“I did you a favor,” the guard snapped.

The bishop turned and belted the guard across the face. “Fool.” He pulled a knife from his sleeve and cut the guard’s throat, stepping back to avoid the spurt of blood. He wiped his blade on the guard's sleeve and knelt at the edge of the bed. “So, it is true,” the bishop whispered. His fingers traced the curve of the abbess’ face. “Isabel, you are as beautiful as ever.” His hand trailed lower, running across her breast.

With a snarl, Guy grabbed the bishop and threw him onto the floor. “You dare to lay your hands upon my mother?”

The bishop laughed. “Gisborne, are you the last to know that your mother was the greatest whore in Christendom?”

Guy raised his sword and stabbed the bishop through the heart.

xxxx

Marian roused to the sound of screaming. She sat up, disoriented, on a large bed. Night had fallen; the room was dark. Her head ached and she pressed one hand to her throbbing temple. It took her a moment to realize two things: she was in Robin's room, and she was not alone. Robin sat in a chair facing the bed, twirling a key between his fingers.

“Who is screaming?” Marian asked groggily.

“The baroness is in labor next door,” Robin explained. “She is having a hard time of it.”

Marian moved to rise from the bed and realized that shackles bound her wrists. “Unlock me,” she said angrily.

“How much is your freedom worth to you, Marian?” Robin asked.

“I am not amused by this game,” she replied, and struggled with the chains.

Robin dropped the key on the table and climbed onto the bed. “Did you think it is a game, Marian? What you have put me through, what you have made of our love?” His eyes glinted dangerously. He threw a leg over hers and straddled her waist. His hands pressed her shackled wrists over her head. “I love you still, but I no longer know you.”

“I have remained as I always have been,” said Marian. “But I do not recognize you any more.” She lashed out with her legs and Robin put his weight on them, pinning her down.

“You have changed me,” said Robin. “How many times can you throw in my face your lust for Gisborne, your sickening passion for a man who should fill you with disgust?”

“Nothing is keeping you here,” said Marian. “You torture yourself by staying to watch us together. You must find someone whose heart is free.”

Robin looked at her for a long moment. “What did I do to make you stop loving me? I will never understand why you turned so cold.”

“I didn't stop loving you. I-” Marian’s explanation was lost as Robin leaned down and covered her mouth with his. His desperation and yearning were overwhelming. She felt one of his hands unfasten the buttons of her jacket.

Robin broke the kiss and Marian screamed as loudly as she could. Robin whispered, “Scream as much as you want and no one will hear you.” He moved his mouth to hers and she bit his lip.

“Take a look at yourself,” Marian hissed. “Is this what the great and noble Robin Hood has become? You seek to rape someone else's wife, a woman you profess to love? What sort of love is this?”

“What we have is real and true. What you and Gisborne share is an abomination. There is no man on earth less deserving of your love. Soon this nightmare will be over and you will be mine once more."

“I will never leave my husband,” Marian said adamantly. “Robin, this is madness.”

“Soon I will know how you feel underneath me, and I will know the warmth inside you.” Robin shifted his position and Marian felt his erection press against her thigh.

“I beg you, Robin, do not do this,” said Marian. “For all that we once were to each other, I beg you to let me go.”

Robin smiled down at her, his eyes sad. “You spread your thighs for Gisborne night and day, and yet you will deny us the act of love?”

“If you take me now, it will be no act of love,” said Marian. “It would be ravishment, and you would not live to walk out of this room.”

Robin chuckled. “The thought of my touch sickens you so?”

“I want no man's touch save my husband's,” said Marian. “Had you wed me, would you not have wished for the same loyalty?”

“And so you speak truly, you would threaten me with death rather than suffer my touch?” asked Robin.

“Yes,” said Marian. “Robin, you cannot force love. You can force me, use my body, but you can not make me love you. You will only destroy the friendship that lies between us. If you cease this now and let me free, we will be friends still. I will never speak of this to anyone, and I will not let it blot my opinion of you. Just unlock my hands, Robin, and let me free.”

Robin left the bed and returned with the key. He held her wrists and placed the key inside the lock. “You wish to run off and save Gisborne,” said Robin. “But Gisborne has damned himself. He had a king’s pardon, and the love of a beautiful woman, and he threw it all away.” He unlocked one cuff and looked into Marian’s eyes. “Gisborne is not a good man, or even a decent man. He has proven again what you should have learned months ago in Acre. He is a madman and a killer.” The key turned in the lock and the shackles dropped to the floor.

Robin cupped Marian’s cheek in his hand. “Your idiot husband has murdered his mother, a guard, and a bishop to boot. He will hang at dawn. In the morning you will be a widow, Marian, and we will see where your heart lies then.”

Marian stared at him in disbelief, and Robin took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss her deeply.


	20. Remember

He really should have listened to his wife. Guy leaned his head against the stone wall and closed his eyes. If Marian had been here, she would have stayed his hand. He would not have killed the bishop; he would not have been caught with a bloody sword in his hand. He would not be here, in a darkened cell, awaiting dawn and death.

He looked up through the slit in the wall, and saw the full moon outside. He had been gone for hours; surely Marian should have realized there was something amiss? He recalled his own words to her, his promises of dark consequences; his firm instructions to Allan. His own pride had laid the foundation for his downfall.

Anger flowed through him. Since when did either of them follow his commands? Why did they choose now of all times to be loyal and obedient? They never bloody listened to him before!

Guy paced the narrow cell for the hundredth time, his mind racing. There were two guards outside the door; four more at the end of the corridor. The bishop’s guard was filled with spit and venom at the loss of their master; he would never make it out of the abbey alive.

He looked again at the slit in the wall. If he had rope, and leverage, he might be able to fit through it. Of course, it was a sheer drop from here down onto the cobblestones below. But if his wife could run across the rooftops, so could he. There must be some way out of this.

Marian, he was sure, would have talked her way out of this cell by now. If there had been bedlinens, she would have made a rope of them, the way she had done when she feared she would hang as the Nightwatchman. As his thoughts turned to his wife, something clicked together in the back of Guy’s mind. He rummaged through his pockets, sifting through the detritus from his mother’s rooms that he had scooped into his coat. He pulled an oval quartz stone from his pocket; from his boot, he pulled his dagger. He took one of his mother’s messages from the bag underneath his coat.

Guy sat down on the floor and read the parchment. His eyes quickly translated the garbled text of the Black Knight’s code into sentences:

My dearest and only love, my Isabel,

Each time we part it opens the wound anew. I wander distracted and easily angered; the servants cower from me, as do my own guards. Guy watches me warily; always anticipating my next move. I care not. My thoughts are all of you: the scent of your body, the warm flush of your skin, the deep pleasure that I feel when we are joined…

Guy winced and skipped ahead. A name caught his eye: Edith.

"Edith looks much like Guy, and you as well- that Savile blood of yours breeds true. She has your lovely eyes, and her nose is very like yours. She toddles now; you know well that I have no use for children, but her likeness to you, I must admit, softens my heart. Perhaps my decision on that front was a mistake; it scarcely matters now, though. We are both too old, are we not?

When Edith comes to court to seek a husband, I will make sure that Guy stays far away, my dear. Oxford was short, fat, and fair, and Sophia is so fair as well. Perhaps I will send Guy to see to my interests in Saxony; that will tie him up for years…”

Guy put down the parchment. This note was eight years old; his mother had been in France for over twenty years. When had Vasey seen his mother? Guy rubbed his temple. It did not signify now. He would puzzle through these letters at his leisure. Provided, of course, that he survived.

Guy ran the quartz against the edge of the blade. He did it again, and again, more quickly, until a spark flickered. It went out and Guy repeated the action until a second spark flared. It ignited the parchment, catching fire with a bright flame. Guy walked over to the wooden door and held the parchment against it. The wood darkened, smoking, and then erupted most satisfyingly into flame.

XXXX

Robin’s hands closed around Marian’s wrists, and he pressed his body tightly against hers. He pushed her backwards onto the bed. “I love you,” Robin said. He looked down and moved his hand to his britches.

Marian twisted to the side and kicked Robin in the head with her booted foot. A crunching noise filled the chamber, and Robin screamed with pain and clutched his face. She shoved him off of her and bent forward, pulling the dagger from her boot. She brandished it in front of her and crept backwards off the bed.

“Interfere with me again and I will kill you,” Marian said brokenly. Robin lay back on the bed, blood flowing from between his fingers. She twisted the key in the lock and pulled the door open.

Marian ran into the hall and nearly fell over Agnes. Her friend was sitting on the floor, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Marian knelt down next to her. “Agnes?”

Agnes lifted her head. Her face was swollen and streaked with tears. “Cecilia,” she said brokenly. “My sister is gone.”

Marian turned and looked through the open doorway. Luc sat in the middle of a blood soaked bed, holding the body of his wife in his arms. He rocked back and forth, his eyes shut.

Marian walked into the room where the lady of the house had died. Sophia knelt in the corner, weeping. A servant girl was on her knees, scrubbing the floor. A young girl piled bloodied cloths in a basket, her face streaked with tears.

Marian placed her dagger on a low table next to the bed and gently put one hand on the baron’s shoulder. “Luc.”

“Leave me,” he replied brokenly.

“Cecilia is with Christ,” she said softly. “She is at peace now.”

“My wife died screaming, in agony. She was my world, and I killed her with my lust.”

Marian patted his arm. “Come. Luc, this is no way to remember her. Let us care for her now.”

Luc shoved her away and Marian fell to the floor. He looked down at her. “Do you know what it is like to lose everything you love? My children, lost. My wife, dead. What do I have to live for?” His face was blank, his voice empty.

Marian’s eyes filled with tears, and she kneeled before him. “Luc, I’m sorry. I am so sorry for your loss.”

Luc shook his head. “A man never loved his...” He turned and saw the knife.

“Luc, no!” Marian sprung to her feet. She reached him just as Luc raised his hand and slit his own throat. The light in his eyes died as he slumped over his wife’s body, blood pouring everywhere.

“No!” Sophia screamed. She ran to the bed and pulled Luc’s body into her arms. She struggled with the weight and buckled to the floor, Luc in her arms. She lay him next to to the bed and pressed her hands to the wound in his neck.

Marian put her hands on Cecilia’s waist and shifted her off the edge of the bed, and as she moved her body, she felt movement. Marian looked down at the baroness’ belly. She saw the skin move, as if a foot inside had kicked.

“Jesus!” Agnes ran to her side and began to scream, seeing the scene before them. Sophia rose from the floor and shook her shoulders hard. “Agnes, calm yourself.”

Marian grabbed Sophia’s arm and placed her hand on Cecilia’s belly. “The babe lives.”

Sophia's eyes widened and she turned to Marian. “We must be quick or it will die.”

“Cecilia is dead!” Agnes looked at Marian in disbelief. “How can we save the child?”

“We must take it from her body,” Sophia explained. “I’ve seen it done, when the mother was dying. Where is the midwife?”

The woman scrubbing the floor looked up. “The midwife left; she had a sick child at home and needed to get back.”

“We have no time,” said Marian. She lifted the dagger.

Sophia took it from her hand. “Let me.” She took a deep breath. “Agnes, pray.” She very carefully cut along the rise of Cecilia’s belly.

“Sweet Jesus,” said Agnes, and closed her eyes.

The scrub maid stood at Sophia’s side and watched. “This is witchcraft, my lady. It is unnatural to violate the dead.” She crossed herself.

“If witchcraft will save my sister’s child, then a witch I will become. Fetch us the cloths for the baby.” Sophia handed the dagger to Marian and reached inside her sister’s body with both hands, pulling out a blue, still figure. “Agnes, take the boy.” Agnes opened her eyes and took the child with trembling hands. Marian cut the cord that connected the infant to his mother.

The servant handed Agnes a cloth and wrapped the child in it. With another cloth, she cleaned the babe, gently rubbing the still form. Agnes frowned and tucked her finger inside his mouth, wiping away what was inside it. A weak, mewling cry filled the air. “Send for a nursemaid for the child, now!” Agnes instructed. She tucked the clean cloth around the baby, folding it gently around his head. “Hush now, my lovey.”

Marian pulled a second infant from its mother. The baby trembled and cried, arching its back as she screamed bloody murder. “That one will make her own way in the world,” said Marian, and Sophia smiled. Marian cut the cord and then wrapped the baby in a soft cloth. The infant looked up at her with wizened features, quieting and blinking as Marian cleaned her body.

Sophia drew a sheet over her sister's still form, covering her to the neck. She leaned down and kissed her cheek. “They are beautiful, Cecilia,” she said. “Your children are beautiful.” She knelt next to her bed and bent her head. Her bloodstained hands closed in prayer.

The baby in Marian's arms turned her head and sucked on her finger. “I quite want one like you,” Marian said softly. “I’d best go save my husband or I will not have the chance.” She walked to Agnes’ side. “Agnes, where is Allan?”

Agnes looked up and blinked. “I have not seen him for many hours, since Cecilia began to labor.” She tucked the blanket around her nephew. “I’m sure he’s on the estate; he would not have left without telling me.”

Marian sighed. “I would not be so sure of that if I were you, Agnes. I do not wish to leave you alone, but I must go to Guy; he needs me.”

Agnes looked up at her, wide eyed. “You cannot leave me now! My sister is dead, her husband dead, these children orphans!”

“I must save Guy!” Marian explained. “He is in danger!”

The baby in Agnes’ arms wailed, and she bent down to hush him. She kissed his cheek and smoothed his hair. She lifted her head and fresh tears rolled down her face. “I have never been so lost as I am now! If your foolhardy husband has found danger, then you know my husband must be one step behind. This is our war, Marian: bodies to be washed, babies to feed, a household to pack before dawn! There is no lady in this house, not any longer. Sophia must tend to her own child and keep Edith away from all this blood and death. You must help me! If you leave me now, I swear I will never forgive you, Marian.” She shuddered with a suppressed sob. “Please stay. I beg you.”

Marian looked down at her friend, who she had grown to love. The babe in her arms turned to nuzzle her breast, the tiny mouth searching for mother’s milk. She thought of the baroness, her husband, and their love that had ended so horribly. Marian looked at Agnes’s face, her pain, her need. Marian sighed. “I will stay, Agnes.” She extended her hand, and her friend clasped it tightly.

xxxx

Guy stood back from the door and waited, arms crossed. The fire was merrily enveloping the wood in thick flames. Guy felt absurdly proud of himself. The smoke thickened, and his eyes filled with tears. He began to cough. Suddenly, the plan seemed a little less brilliant.

He heard a clamor in the hallway, and then the door exploded into a hail of chunks of flaming wood and sparks. Guy threw his coat over his head and ran through the flames. Once through, he ran straight into a wall of guards. He elbowed one in the face, grabbed his sword, and made it past the rest with a few minor wounds. As Guy ran down the corridor, he ran smack into Allan. The men collided in a rush and staggered apart.

“There you are!” said Allan. “I had a hell of a time finding you- I went to the jail, the bishop’s palace, and you’re back at the abbey! We’ve got to get out of here.” He sniffed the air. “What did you do, set the bloody place on fire?”

“Just the door,” Guy explained. “I wanted out of the cell.”

Allan smiled. “Took a page out of Marian’s book, did you?” He grabbed Guy’s elbow. “Come on. We need to get the hell out of Marseille tonight. We’ll ride overland to Calais and sail to England from there.”

Guy nodded. “Good.”

They ran together down the corridor. “Guy!” said a sharp voice. Guy and Allan turned to see the abbess standing alone, two dead guards at her feet. She was dressed in a tunic of mail, the hem at her calves. Her blond hair flowed unbound over her shoulders. In her hands she held a sword, stained with blood.

“Mother?” Guy’s eyes widened, his jaw slack.

Isabel walked up to him and slapped him hard across the face. “You killed the bishop?” She tsk-tsked. “Temper, Guy!”

Guy looked at her in disbelief. “Mother, dying does not seem to come easily to you.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “Sleeping potion, that is all. Child’s play, and a trick as old as the hills. Just enough of a dose to bide my time and get away from here. Saxony is lovely this time of year. The hawthorn is in bloom.”

Guy stared at her. “You are mad.”

“We already knew that, Guy.” Allan grabbed his arm. “Come away now. We must hurry.”

“I will not permit you to become an outlaw,” Isabel said angrily. “You have come so far. You are so close to Warwick, Guy, to your destiny.”

“It was through your actions that I lost it all,” Guy exploded. “You have begun mothering me decades too late!”

“I had no choice!” the abbess hissed. “God spoke to me! What choice did I have but to follow His commands?”

Allan frowned. “God told you to be a horrible mother?”

Isabel turned to him and smiled widely. “Yes! It was not my choice! It was in God’s hands.”

“Does God speak to you. . .often?” Allan inquired.

Guy shook his head. “I cannot bear any more of this prattle.” He turned to walk away.

“You cannot leave,” Isabel said angrily. She reached out and grabbed Guy’s arm with a bandaged hand. “You cannot become an outlaw. You have come too far now to ruin it all. God wants you to regain Warwick. He told me so Himself!”

“Mother, I will never regain Warwick. I do not have the temperament to be a great man,” said Guy. “I am not a good man, a calm man as Father was.”

“I want more for you,” Isabel said angrily. “I want you to have the whole world, my son, as did your father and Vasey as well.” She smiled, and Guy could see how beautiful she must have been as a girl.

“Mother, do you know that I killed Vasey?” asked Guy. “My hand slew the man you loved so well.”

“Richard told me,” Isabel explained. “He sent me a lovely letter.” She tilted her head. “I know God told you to kill Vasey,” she whispered. “What did He say to you?”

A crowd of soldiers ran into the end of the hallway, blocking their exit. A tall man in the richly embroidered hat and robes of a bishop stepped forward, his face grim. “Seize them.”

The guards focused on restraining Allan and Guy. The bishop watched, his brow furrowed, and the abbess stepped forward and pressed her sword to the bishop’s throat. “Would you like to join your predecessor? I killed him and I will kill you just as easily.” Isabel smiled, her eyes merry. “Release my son or I will kill you too. One by one, you’ll all die.”

xxxx

Marian sewed closed the wound on the baroness’ belly. She set aside needle and thread and clothed Cecilia’s body in a dark blue linen shift. Marian gently smoothed down her golden hair, arranging it in waves over her shoulders.

A gentle touch pressed against her arm. Marian turned to see Robin. His nose was swollen, and a black bruise rimmed the lower lid of his eye. “I will not ask for your forgiveness,” he said quietly.

“I would not give it,” Marian replied. “You have not earned it.”

Robin cleared his throat. “A messenger came from Richard. He was captured on his return from the Holy Land, and is being held for ransom in Austria. I leave in the morning to lend what aid I can.”

The sun was rising, smearing orange and purple across the sky, and the room began to fill with light. “There is no time to waste. Dawn is here,” said Marian. She smiled at Robin. "Your plan has failed, by the way. Guy sent word that there will be no execution at dawn."

“Congratulations," Robin said dryly."Surely justice and honor have prevailed."

Marian shot him a venemous look. "Leave. There is nothing for you here."

"Much will accompany me on my journey,” Robin explained. “I know that you have made other plans, but it would be a true kindness to give him Bonchurch when he returns.”

“I will give him a living at Bonchurch and the use of the property,” Marian replied. “Guy and I will make other arrangements for Agnes and Allan and their family. I wish Much to return to Nottingham with me today. He wishes to be reunited with the woman he loves and marry her. You cannot impose on his love for you any longer, Robin. Let him free.”

Robin smiled at her bitterly. “You would take all that I love from me?”

“You do not deserve Much’s love,” said Marian. “He deserves his own life, a life free of your dreams, your desires. Let him find comfort and happiness. That is all he has ever wanted, and you owe it to him.”

Robin looked away and bit his lip. “As you wish, my lady.”

“There is something you must see, Robin.” Marian beckoned him with one finger. Luc lay on a long wooden table, dressed richly in blue velvet. A lace collar hid his throat from view. “This man is dead because of you.” Her eyes bored into his. “His children are orphans because of you. Their lives were ruined, because of your actions.”

“I did not harm them,” Robin replied, his brow wrinkling. “I have not harmed anyone.”

Marian picked up the dagger that lay at the baron’s side and turned to Robin. She raised it to his throat and looked into his eyes. “If not for you, I would have been at my husband’s side. Luc would be alive now, grieving his wife but finding solace in his children. He would not have seized the knife that I carried naked to his room, to protect myself from you. Because of your lust, your stupidity, so much is lost.” Tears sprung into her eyes, and her mouth twisted with anger. “A life can change so quickly, Robin. A life can end so quickly.”

“I learned that long ago.” Robin’s eyes met hers, unflinching. “I never should have left you to go to war, Marian, and I should have killed Gisborne when I had the chance.”

Marian cut him then, a quick jerk of her wrist that left him bleeding from under his ear to the middle of his chin. “Do not push me any farther.”

Robin’s hand pressed against his neck. “What happened to the girl that I loved?” Blood dripped from between his fingers.

“I grew up,” Marian replied. “I hope you do the same. Do not return to Nottingham until you have.”

“When I think on you, Marian, I believe it is this moment I will always remember.” Robin turned and left her then, and Marian returned to her work.

xxxx

The courtyard filled with light, and streaks of orange and purple lit the sky overhead. The wind kicked up, and Guy’s jacket snapped in the breeze. “You shouldn’t watch this,” Allan said.

“I must.” Guy stared straight ahead, his eyes unblinking.

“You do not need to remember this moment.” Allan put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Guy, go to down to the docks. See to the cargo. Check on our provisions.”

“I cannot leave.” The bishop stepped forward, chanting Latin, and set flame to the pile of wood at the foot of the pyre with a lit torch. Guy watched the flames lick at his mother’s feet, and she closed her eyes and smiled.

“Turn around, Guy,” Allan said softly. “I will tell you when it is over.”

“I need to know that my mother is truly gone,” Guy replied. “I will never be free of her until I know it, deep in my soul.”

Allan met Guy’s eyes. “I swear to you, I will tell you only the truth. From this moment on. Please. Just turn around, now.”

Guy turned his back on the pyre. He felt the heat on the back of his neck, and his mother’s screams filled the air as the sun rose high in the sky.


	21. Homeward

Marian looked exhausted. She lay asleep on their bed, still fully dressed. The front of her dress was stained with blood. Purple bruises mottled her throat, and her wrists were bandaged. His bride had not come to wage war at his side, but it appeared she had fought a battle of her own.

Guy picked up Marian's hand and gently pressed a kiss into her palm. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Good morning, husband,” she said with a smile.

“Good morning, wife,” he replied, and bent his head to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and they exchanged a loving embrace.

Marian broke the kiss and looked up at him with a grin. “Eventful night?”

“For you as well, I hear.”

“You smell like smoke.” Marian tilted her head and ran a finger across Guy's cheek. “My love, you have singed off your eyelashes.” She patted the top of his head. “And some of your hair.”

“As you said, eventful night.” Guy's hands traced the bandages at her wrists. “Allan told me he knocked you unconscious and left you shackled in the care of Hood.” Guy traced the bruises on her throat. “I assume these are the work of Locksley and not of Allan? It would be a shame to widow Agnes so soon after the wedding.”

“Hood was a fool, I dealt with him, and he will trouble us no longer,” said Marian. “He is en route to Austria on the king's business.”

Guy cupped her cheek with one hand. “Marian, if he has harmed you, I will follow him and seek my own justice.”

Marian shook her head. “When he returns to Nottingham, I will seek my own. But let us speak of other, more pleasant things.”

Guy frowned. “There are no pleasant topics this morning, my love. The priest returned with Allan and I; he is preparing the chapel for the baptisms and the ground had been prepared for the burials. Sophia has arranged it all; a state of crisis seems to bring out her better qualities.” He kissed Marian's hand. “Our cargo is at the docks; the ship is prepared. We have only to settle our business here at Montaillaut and we must depart.”

Marian sighed. “I have barely had time to sleep. I am sure Agnes has not rested at all. She refuses to let the nursemaids out of her sight with the babes.”

“Agnes sleeps,” said Guy. “Much and Edith are caring for the infants, with the nursemaids. Edith seems very taken with Much; she told me that he tells the best jokes.”

“I am glad that Edith is in good spirits,” said Marian. “Last night was so horrific; I am so glad that she slept through it all.”

Guy nodded. “Edith is just a child, distracted by the babies and your friend Much's antics. Sophia asked him to stay with her during the funerals; there is no reason for her to be subjected to such pain. Sophia, despite her nature, really does dote on the child.”

“As it should be,” Marian said lightly. “A mother's love is, they say, the strongest of all.”

Guy smiled. “I cannot imagine a stronger love than that we share.”

“Well, in less than a year's time I shall be able to tell you my opinion on which is stronger, a wife's love or a mother's.” Marian's eyes searched his.

Guy froze. “What?”

“I am with child,” she said simply.

“You're having my child?” Guy asked. He pointed at his chest with one finger, his eyes wide.

Marian grinned. “Well, yes, Guy. It would appear so. I was sick at dawn, immediately after, before breakfast, during breakfast, in the hall, finally, thankfully, in the privy. My breasts are sore and all I want to do is sleep.” She smiled wryly. “I know it is my imagination, just a silly fancy of mine, but I swear I can feel the child inside. It is there.” She laughed. “You must think me mad.”

Guy shook his head. “No. They say women know their own bodies. If you know it to be so, I have no doubt.” He reached out a hand and placed it on her belly. “Our child.” He bowed his head, his thumb trailing across the cloth of Marian's dress.

“You are pleased?” Marian reached out and placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. "Guy?"

Guy smiled at her, his eyes bright. “Marian, I am overjoyed.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply.

“We must prepare to sail,” she said breathlessly.

“Yes, we have duties to attend to." Guy's hands unfastened his breeches as their mouths met again in a deep, breathless kiss.

"We have no time," she said. "Guy, we must not delay."

Guy's hands lifted her skirt. “The world can wait.” He slid inside her and she tilted her head back with a moan. “Marian.” They moved together, and she bit his ear. He hissed with pleasure and stroked faster.

“I love you,” Marian whispered, her mouth warm on his ear. “Only you.”

His arms tightened around her as her fingernails slid down his back. “Yes,” he moaned.

She bit his neck, and the lobe of his ear. “I want you all the time. I can't wait for you to take me again.”

“I never stop needing you, thinking of you. Constantly.”

“Don't stop, not ever,” Marian whispered. She pressed her hands to his buttocks, coaxing him faster, deeper.

“It is so good between us,” Guy moaned. “God, Marian.”

“Oh, my. Oh.” Marian's back arched and she cried out. Guy watched her face fill with color, her eyes close with pleasure.

“Yes, yes,” Guy drove into her, his body shaking, until he found his own oblivion in her arms. “Christ almighty.”

xxxx

The graves were raw, jagged holes in the green meadow. “Amen,” said the priest. The small gathering of people crossed themselves. Agnes let out a sob, and Allan patted her back and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Sophia stepped forward, her face icy and remote, and put her hand on the priest's shoulder.  
“That was a lovely service, Father. We are most grateful.”

The priest patted her hand. “I pray that Christ may hold your sister and her husband to His side forever.”

Sophia nodded. “Thank you. It is a great comfort to know they are in His presence.”

“It is so unfortunate, your sister and her husband passing away in the same evening,” said the priest. “Such a tragedy for your family.”

“Luc was troubled with a weak heart,” said Allan. “It is indeed a tragedy, for us all.”

The group walked into the garden, approaching the house. Agnes looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms. “Luc's heart just couldn't take Cecilia’s loss.”

The infant Marian held sent up a mighty wail. She offered the baby her thumb and the baby sucked eagerly, her cheeks closed. Guy looked down at the child. “She needs to nurse, I believe. I will fetch Jeanne.”

“No need, here she comes,” said Marian.

The tall, thin girl rushed towards them, her skirts swirling. The nursemaid curtsied to Marian. “Permit me, my lady.”

Marian smiled. “Clare's appetite has no bounds.”

“The more they nurse, they stronger they are, my lady,” said Jeanne. "It is all for the good." She took the infant in her arms and walked back towards the house.

A short, fat man rushed around the side of the house, carrying a wooden box. “The documents all here, my lady,” he said. “The young baron's estate is in good hands. The property will thrive until young Luc is of age.”

Sophia raised her eyebrows. “Luc's connections are strong on both sides. Simply because the boy will be raised in England does not mean that carelessness on the Continent will go unchecked.”

The man flushed. “My lady, you have made yourself quite clear. The property will be managed as if it were my own.”

“I expect nothing less. Place the chest in the carriage; we depart in moments.” She turned to Agnes. "I will fetch the others. Would you like me to take Luc?"

Agnes shook her head. "I am fine, Sophia. You do not need to hover."

Sophia sighed. "As you wish. You always so loved to play the martyr."

Agnes's glare at her sister's back was not lost on her husband. "Don't let her bother you, sweetheart," he advised.

Agnes smiled up at Allan. "I will try. I must pray to God for patience with her."

"Or you could just tell her off," said Allan. "I know you're shy, but I'll loosen your tongue yet, love." He grinned at his wife and kissed her.

“It is time to depart, Allan,” Guy reminded him.

“Home to England,” said Marian. “At last.” Guy took Marian’s hand as they walked around the front of the house, past a cart heavily loaded with baggage, and to the carriage.

“When we return to England,” said Guy, “I will have to tend to the king's business. The bargain I made in Acre must be upheld.”

Marian nodded. “And I will stay behind in Nottingham.” She brushed her hands over her belly. “I must stay behind, I suppose. Embroider something at the fireside or take up some other suitably domestic task for the increasing woman.”

Guy laughed. “Yes, you must stay behind at Nottingham. I will perform the king's business, and you will mind the Sheriff's. I am sure you will not be bored. You will have an entire town to manage, not just one man.”

She slapped his arm. “I do not manage you!”

“Well, you try,” Guy replied. He raised her hand to his lips. “I hope you enjoy the voyage, my love. It is the last adventure you will have for some time.”

Marian smiled. “Perhaps I will find adventure enough in Nottingham to keep me busy.”

A shriek split the air. Guy and Marian turned to watch as Much strode through the doors of Montaillaut, a giggling Edith on his back. Sophia followed with a smile on her face. Agnes and Allan were close behind, each carrying an infant, and the nursemaids were loaded down with baskets and blankets.

“We go to England!” Edith called out excitedly. She punched one hand in the air and whooped. “England!” The sound of ringing laughter filled the air as they took their leave of Montaillaut.

xxxx

The docks swarmed with people, the bustle of a working day in Marseille around them. “Look!” Edith said excitedly. She rushed away from her mother and a strong hand grabbed her arm.

“Come, my sweet,” said Guy. “It is time to board.”

“Do I have my own cabin?” Edith asked excitedly.

“You will share with your mother,” he explained.

The girl pulled a face. “Well, that is no fun.” She smiled and tilted her head. “Perhaps I could share with Much,” she suggested sweetly.

Guy laughed and led her back to Sophia. “I think not.” Much offered his arm to Sophia, who took it, and his other hand to Edith, who grabbed it tightly and looked up at him with a smile. They walked up the gangplank, Edith skipping, and boarded the ship.

“I believe that Much has an ardent admirer,” said an amused voice. “His Eve will have a fight on her hands."

Guy turned to see his wife with a baby in her arms, and Guy put his arm around her waist. “This is the boy?” he asked, and peered into the blanket.

“No, it is Clare." They walked down the gangplank together. “Do you think that the children will stay with Allen and Agnes?”

“Sophia wants to keep the children with her; Agnes wishes to keep them as well. They will, no doubt, fight about it all the way back to England,” said Guy. “Sophia is not one to give up without a battle royale.”

“I would not bet against Agnes. I think there is a will of steel underneath the surface.” Marian held the baby tightly as they stepped onto the ship. “I have agreed to give Much Bonchurch, as a favor to Robin. I have not yet had a chance to discuss it with Agnes and Allan. I fear she will be displeased.”

“I would very much like to hear about this last conversation you had with Hood.”

“We'll discuss it later." Marian looked away. “We'll have weeks at sea to do nothing but talk.”

“My plans for the voyage do not include much talking,” Guy said softly, and he kissed her neck.

A tall man with wide brown eyes and swarthy skin stepped forward. “My lord, it is a pleasure to welcome you aboard again.”

Guy nodded. “I trust you to bring us safely back to England, Darius.”

The man smiled, his teeth white. "I would not dare to do anything else, my lord Sheriff.”

They followed the captain down a corridor and into a wide and spacious room. “This is perfect. Thank you.” The captain bowed and left them alone.

Guy closed the door and Marian looked around the room. “This is the same ship that brought us here. This was my room.”

“It was,” Guy agreed. “We are back where we started.”

"Not quite." Marian kicked off her shoes, unclasped her cloak, and lay back on the bed. She sighed and rested her head against the pillows. The baby whimpered in her sleep and Marian moved the downy head onto her shoulder. “It's our room, our bed. Not just mine, now we are wed.”

“Man and wife.” Guy sat down and pulled off his boots.

“Sheriff and countess,” said Marian. She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

Guy unfastened his jacket and tossed it on the floor. He joined Marian on the bed and rolled over to face his wife. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” he whispered, and kissed her mouth.

“I am the most tired woman in the world,” she replied. Guy threw an arm across his wife's waist and lay his head on her shoulder. He closed his eyes, listening to her breath and that of the sleeping baby.

A knock sounded at the door and Allan stuck his head in. “Agnes sent me to fetch Clare,” he explained.

“The baby's asleep,” Marian explained. She lifted one tiny arm and waved it at Allan. “Completely out. You're not supposed to wake them if they are asleep.”

“It's time for her to nurse,” Allan replied. He gently lifted the baby, cradling her against his chest.

“You're getting the hang of it,” said Marian.

“It's easy once you know what you're doing,” said Allan. He smirked. “The two of you looked very cozy snuggled up with the baby.”

“Sod off,” said Guy, and closed his eyes again. “And don't come into our chamber again without knocking.”

“There's two babies, a little girl, and Much on board,” said Allan. “Your honeymoon is over, Guy.” He closed the door behind him.

Marian pulled Guy’s face to hers. “Not quite over." They kissed, softly and sweetly, and then she yawned. "Oh, sorry."

“Sleep now, my lovely,” said Guy, and kissed her lightly. “It is a long journey ahead of us.”

“You'll stay with me?” she asked sleepily.

“Yes, Marian.” Guy watched his wife descend into sleep. She lay in the same bed on which he had watched her struggle between life and death, on an arduous journey that he had sent her on, but on which he could not follow. Her sleep now was deep from exhaustion, not poppies and wine, and within her no grievous wound lay, but instead the promise of new life.

Guy's hand moved to cup her belly. As he fell asleep, Marian's hand closed over his. As the boat slid out in the harbor, the waves moved them towards home.

The End

 

Epilogue

It was a festival day in Nottingham. Banners hung from the castle walls and the gates were open wide. Tables had been set up, groaning under the weight of roasted meats, savory pies and sweet cakes. Tankards of ale were in abundance, and the sound of laughter filled the air.

A trumpet pealed, and Guy of Gisborne walked onto the dais, a proud figure in black leather. The crowd quieted. He looked out upon the crowd, his chin high. “As you know, I am now the Sheriff of Nottingham.” Not a word was spoken. “I know that under Vasey, I committed crimes against many of you: your families, your friends, your neighbors. “ His eyes scanned the crowd, his jaw set. “My pardon from the king has been read in Nottingham, in Locksley, in Knighton, in all the towns of this shire. The king has wiped the slate clean. But I know that you, the people of Nottingham, have not been so kind. And I do not fault you for it. I have given you no reason to trust me; no reason to believe that I am a new man, a changed man.” His voice rang out, and the crowd was silent.

“But you will take my word, will you not?” asked a new voice. The crowd turned to see Lady Marian walk through the crowd. “You have known me all your lives. I have cared for your sick, fed you when you were hungry, and fought for peace and justice throughout our shire.” Marian took the dais and faced the crowd. “You have known me as the sheriff's daughter, and Lady Marian of Knighton." She grinned. “And perhaps as the Nightwatchman.” The crowd twittered and Marian smiled. “Oh, yes. That was me.”

“God bless you, my lady!” a woman cried out.

Marian smiled and nodded her head. “I have put such dangerous pastimes behind me. I am the sheriff's lady, now.” She put her hand on Guy's shoulder and looked up at him.

“I will uphold the king's law in Nottingham. Peace and justice will prevail in this shire. There will be ample food and shelter for all who need it,” said Guy. “Honest work, fair wages. A fair hand to settle disputes. As sheriff, I will work to provide a good life for all the men, women and children of Nottingham. In time I hope to earn your trust. Until then, trust in my wife.” He looked down at her and she smiled up in return. “My lady wife promised me that when we wed there would be a great feast in Nottingham to celebrate our marriage,” he said. “I hope that you will partake of this feast, and share in our joy.”

“The sheriff's already had his share of joy,” said a loud voice. “His wife's belly is full of a child already!” The townspeople laughed as Guy cast an angry glare at Allan A Dale.

Marian turned to the side and smoothed down her skirts, showing her rounded belly. The crowd clapped and shouted congratulations. Guy put an arm around her waist and raised his goblet. “To my wife, Marian, Countess of Knighton!”

“To the Countess!” the townspeople roared.

In front of all the men and women of the shire, Sir Guy of Gisborne kissed his bride.

Finis


End file.
